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"QUAD'S   ODDS;" 

BY 

"M.  QUAD,  THE  DETROIT  FREE  PRESS  MAN." 

ANECDOTE,  HUMOR  AND  PATHOS. 

AND  OTHER  THINGS. 

WITH  NUMEROUS  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

A  BOOK 

NEVER  OFFERED  THE  PUBLIC  BEFORE. 


EACH  COPY  GUARANTEED  FULL  WEIGHT. 


DETROIT : 
R.  D.  S.  TYLER  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS. 


SAN  FRANCISCO,  GAL.. ..A.  L.  BANCROFT  h  CO 

BOSTON HF.NRY  L.  SIIEPARD  &  CO. 

CHICAGO H    H.  NATT  &  CO. 

INDIANAPOLIS  (forS.  Ind.)....FREI).  L.  HORTO.V. 

ST.  LOUIS,  MO SAM.  J.  JUXKIX. 

DENVER,  COL H.  J,.  TIIAYKR  &  CO. 


ROCHESTER  (for TV.  N.Y.).... JOHN  J  McGOWAN. 

ATLANTA,  GA M.  P.  THOMPSON. 

PHILADELPHIA H.  N.  McKINNEY  &  CO. 

NEW  YORK F.  S.  BOGUE,  678  Buoadway. 

O.SWEGO  (Coutral  N.  Y.)...FRF,D.  H.  TYLER  &  CO. 
LEAVENWORTH,  KAN A.  T.  CANFIELD. 


TORONTO, ONT BELFORD  BROS. 


Free  Press  Book  and  Job  Printing  House. 

1875. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  A.  D.  1875, 

By   CHARLES   B.  LEWIS, 

In  the  ofiBce  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


Illustrated  by  L.  H.  Crumb. 


Wood  &  Rand,  Eloetrotj-pers. 
Bound  by  E.  B.  Suith  &  Co. 


TO 

%^(^  %ai%n<^<i  grlbe,  cf  gndlan^f 

WITH 

EARNEST    CONGRATCLATIOXS 

UPON   THEIR   SUCCESS   IX   ESCAPING   THUS    FAR   THE    SERIES   OF   EVILS 

FOLLOWING   IN   THE    SHADOW    OF   THE    LIGHTNING-ROD   SELLER, 

THE   CHROSIO   PEDDLER,    AND    THE   TAX   COLLECTOR, 

AND  TRULY  HOPING  FOR  AN  IMMEDIATE 

MORAL   IMPROVEMENT, 

IS 

THIS    VOLUME 

KESPECTFUIiLT  DEDICATED  BY 

TJIE  AUTHOR. 


ivi565049 


THE  PAWNEES. 


Pawnee  Indiaist  Agency,  "I 

Genoa,  Neb.,  8tli  mo.,  11,  1875.  J 

C.  B.  Lewis, 

Respected  Friend: 

I  observed  a  brief  notice  in  one 
of  tlie  Omaha  papers  recently  of  a  "  forthcoming  book  " 
of  yours,  to  be  dedicated  to  the  "  Pawnee  Tribe  of  Indi- 
ans," etc.,  but  whether  a  joke  or  a  reality,  from  the  vein  of 
remark  I  could  not  tell.  If  you  have  written  or  are  about 
to  publish  anything  having  a  bearing  on  our  tribe  I  trust 
you  will  be  kind  enough  to  inform  me  how  I  can  procure 
it,  as  I  am  collecting  facts  and  statistics  on  Indian  aiiairs. 
The  Pawnees  have  selected  a  new  Reservation  on  Indian 
Territory,  and  the  major  portion  of  the  tribe  are  there — 
the  balance  will  probably  be  removed  thither  before  winter. 
On  the  new  Reservation  they  will  soon  live  in  houses,  and 
will  have  allotments  of  land  from  which  to  subsist  them- 
selves, with  a  little  aid.  Many  of  the  tribe  are  now  faith- 
ful workers,  and  they  are  now  not  only  peaceably  disposed 
towards  the  whites,  but  their  status  has  considerably 
advanced  over  what  it  was  ten  years  ago — that  is,  in  the 
tendency  towards  civilization.  I  simply  refer  to  these 
things  on  the  supposition  that  you  have  some  knowledge 
of  the  tribe  or  interest  in  their  welfare  and  progress. 

Yours  respectfully, 

WM.  BURGESS, 

U.  S.  Ind.  Agt.  for  Pawneea. 
VI 


DEDICATORY. 


fT  was  the  author's  solemn  intention  at  the  outset  to 
dedicate  this  book  to  some  newspaper  man — Gregory, 
Piatt,  Griswold,  Watterson,  Bayard,  Waterloo,  Sey- 
mour, Bailey,  Swineford,  Wood — to  some  particular  one 
of  the  coterie  who  use  the  pen  more  than  the  scissors,  and 
whose  original  work  sustains  the  reputation  of  the  Ameri- 
can press  for  brilliancy.  This  was  his  intention,  but  when 
nearly  five  hundred  newspapers,  each  saying  a  kind  word 
for  the  book,  had  reached  his  table,  it  was  plain  that  such 
a  dedication  would  be  ruled  out  of  order.  Being  under 
obligations  to  the  Pawnee  Indians  for  many  private  rea- 
sons, and  hoping  to  push  the  sale  of  the  book  among  such 
tribes  as  love  to  sit  down  and  read,  or  hold  spelling-bees, 
in  preference  to  hunting  around  for  scalps,  the  author  pre- 
vailed upon  himself  to  write  such  a  dedication  as  the 

reader  has  found. 

YU 


EXPLANATORY. 


"Xgj^T'HEISr  a  person  sets  out  to  publish  a  book,  it  is  bis 
^^v  purpose  to  publish  a  book  free  from  typographical 
errors,  contaiuiug  tine  illustrations,  if  any  at  all,  and  to 
be  careful  tlxat  no  bad  grammar  or  second-class  English 
can  be  found  by  the  reader.  I  set  out  to  do  this  same 
thing,  but  after  overhauling  two  or  three  hundred  works 
by  various  authors  I  saw  that  a  perfect  book  was  monoto- 
nous. The  reader  got  tired  of  seeing  page  after  page  with- 
out an  error,  and  cut  after  cut  which  he  had  to  pronounce 
fine.  There  is  bad  grammar  in  this  book.  There  is  faulty 
English.  There  are  typographical  errors.  We  might  as 
well  have  had  fine  illustrations  all  through,  but  we  didn't 
want  them.  There  are  cuts  in  this  book  which  any  car- 
penter could  improve,  but  they  were  made  thus  to  vary  the 
monotony.  I  offered  to  cut  some  illustrations  out  with  an 
axe,  but  the  engraver  said  he  could  beat  me  on  bad  ones, 
and  I  think  he  has.  There  may  be  some  articles  in  the 
book  worth  saving  to  read  again,  but  I  know  that  I 
wouldn't  read  one  of  them  twice  if  I  could  help  it.  The 
covers  are,  I  believe,  all  right,  and  the  weight  is  here, 
while  the  publisher  means  to  sell  as  many  volumes  as  he 
can. 

If  any  journalist,  after  reading  this  book,  stands  up  and 
remarks  that  I  am  no  humorist,  I  have  a  hundred  witnesses 
who  will  swear  that  I  never  claimed  to  be. 

IX 


X  EXPLANATORY, 

Three  hundred  pages  of  the  book  never  saw  print  before. 
The  remainder  is  made  up  of  my  sketches  in  the  Detroit 
Free  Press,  Hearth  and  Home,  Fireside  Friend,  New 
York  Weekly,  Cleveland  Pictorial  World,  and  two  or 
three  daily  papers.  I  admit  beforehand  what  any  critic 
shall  say,  and  will  cheerfully  receive  all  postal  cards 
inquiring  why  I  made  such  a  failure  of  my  portion,  and 
where  my  engraver  can  be  found  by  a  mob. 
Very  truly, 

C.  B.  LEWIS. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

Up  Among  the  Splinters 17 

Little  Tom 23 

The  Book  Agent 27 

His  Ancestry 30 

Bijah 33 

Depressions 35 

Going  to  Pic-nics 41 

"Primrose  " 45 

The  Hoodlum 48 

There  were  Bugs  There 51 

A  Sad  Song 55 

The  Old  Fireman 57 

She  Had  a  Heart  After  All 62 

Keeping  the  Boy  in  Nights 65 

Executin'  the  Law 69 

Under  the  Gas  Lamp 74 

Man  who  Advertised 77 

He  Goes  West 80 

The  Fourth  Story 85 

Having  the  Toothache 88 

Some  Indian  Relics 91 

On  the  Coroner's  Jury 95 

That  Smith  Boy 98 

That  Insurance  Agent 101 

Jack's  Boy 104 

xi 


XU  CONTENTS. 

A  Particular  Girl 108 

Brigham  Young's  Wife 110 

The  Boys  Around  the  House 114 

Debating  Society  at  Black  Wolf 117 

Going  to  Funerals 121 

How  the  Mate  Died 124 

Enoch  Arden 127 

An  Ilour  at  the  Central  Station  Court 131 

The  Eureky  Kat  Trap 135 

The  Head  Writer I39 

Mrs.  Dolson's  Ailments 144 

Confession  of  a  Murderer , . . , 147 

The  Perkins  Baby 150 

How  a  Woman  3Iakcs  a  Bed 154 

"  Brixs  " 156 

The  Last  Warrior I59 

Refrigerators 162 

How  a  Woman  Splits  Wood 165 

Fat  Folks 168 

Epitaphs  and  Such 170 

Girl  Wanted I73 

The  Proof  Reader 176 

Jorks,  Ex-Philanthropist 178 

Only  an  Ohio  Man. 181 

A  Careful  Man 182 

His  Time  for  Fiddling 185 

Topsy  Tumble 188 

The  First  House  in  Michigan 191 

How  a  Woman  Reads  a  Letter .   195 

"An  Hour" 198 

The  Lady  we  all  Fear 202 

A  Determined  Young  Man 205 

A  Pioneer  Justice 206 


CONTENTS.  Xlll 

" Two-DoUar" 210 

Johu  Cain 213 

It  was  in  Indiana 31G 

His  Early  Loves 218 

He  Said  Cuss 222 

In  the  Chimney  Corner 225 

Christopher  Columbus  McPherson 227 

The  Solemn  Book  Agent 230 

"An  Hour  " 233 

A  Bribe 238 

John  Bloss,  Miner 239 

She  was  a  Motherly  Old  Lady 242 

What  a  Child  Saw 24G 

Old  Frisket 219 

' '  R-a-g-s  " 253 

The  Mother's  Friend 255 

Getting  a  Photograph 259 

The  Figures 261 

Some  New  Views  ia  the  Yosemite 202 

A  Philosopher 200 

Training  up  a  Boy. 270 

Canv;issing  for  the  Washington  lilonumcnt 273 

Legend  of  a  Baggage  Smasher 277 

That  Hired  Girl 281 

"An  Hour  " .    283 

Seeing  the  Menagerie 288 

What  Three  Women  Said 293 

Jackson  Green 290 

Niagara  Falls 299 

Of  Course  He  Did 302 

An  Abused  Book 303 

"An  Hour  " 300 

"Ap-u-l-s  " 311 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

Chipmunk 314 

Let  Us  Alone 318 

Death  of  Captain  Cook. 320 

Thomas  Toms,  Deceased 328 

J.  Brown,  Deceased 326 

Mrs.  Briggs,  Martyr 331 

He  Felt  DoUarous 335 

How  to  Act  in  Case  of  Fire 33G 

The  Colonel's  Letter 339 

The  Ball  at  Widow  McGee's 342 

The  Summer  Vacation 344 

Tlic  Indian  Question 347 

"An  Hour  " 349 

Jeems 354 

Some  Bald-headed  Men 356 

The  Last  Coach 360 

Mr  Leon  St.  Johns 362 

That  Emerson  Boy 366 

The  Woman  with  the  Poetry 369 

The  Self-made  Men  of  Detroit 373 

The  Late  Artemus  Ward's  Warm  Friends 377 

The  Bad  Boy 379 

The  Good  Boy 384 

Cleaning  House 388 

Patent  No.  249,826 392 

Partiality 395 

The  Old  Pioneer 398 

Getting  the  Hair  Cut 402 

The  Fat  Man  in  Chicago 405 

True  Love 410 

Ye  Old  Schoolmaster 411 

Ugly  Greg 414 

Our  Boys 418 


INDEX.  XV 

Professor  of  Botany 421 

Their  Spelling  Bee 42G 

Barnaby's  Boy  and  Old  Jack 429 

A  Few  Great  Men 433 

Our  French  Engraver 438 

The  Darwin  Theory 441 

On  the  Night  Breeze 444 

Those  Circus  Bills 449 

Old  Sol 454 

A  Lone  Hand 457 

Moral  Courage 459 

The  O'Lone  Invention 463 

Sick  Man 4G5 

McGrady's  Base  Trick 470 

As  the  Pigeon  Flies 474 

Some  Sad  Thoughts 479 


UP  AMONG  THE  SPLINTERS. 


f"WAS  going  up  to  Maysville,  Kentucky,  to  take  a 
"sit"'  on  the  Bulletin,  and  of,  course  I  took  the 
steamer  Magnolia,  after  reaching  Cincinnati,  in  pref- 
erence to  all  others.  She  was  a  tidy-looking  boat,  and  her 
head  clerk  wore  a  diamond  pin.  He  was  the  first  steam- 
boat clerk  I  had  ever  seen  fastened  to  a  $600  diamond,  and 
I  was  determined  to  go  on  that  boat  if  it  killed  me. 


"V^^'- 


Blsiness  Aloft 


A  runner  for  a  rival  boat  assured  me  that  the  Magnolia 
would  blow  up,  while  his  boat  w^ould  slide  up  the  river  like 
grease,  but  the  diamond  pin  decided  me. 
B  17 


18  THE    INTERRUPTION. 

"  Good-bye,  my  white-haired  rural  friend !"  sorrowfully 
exclaimed  the  rival  runner  as  he  turned  away,  and  I  never 
saw  him  again.  Our  paths  diverged  right  there.  Mine 
went  skyward,  and  he  went  oiF  and  fell  down  a  hatchway 
and  was  killed. 

After  the  steamer  left  the  wharf-boat  I  sat  down  in  the 
cabin  and  listened,  with  others,  while  a  fat  man  from 
Illinois  read  four  or  five  columns  of  the  impeachment  trial 
of  Andy  Johnson.     Throwing  the  paper  down  he  said  : 

"  Gentlemen,  it  seems  to  me " 

lie  stopped  right  there.  He  couldn't  go  on.  The  boil- 
ers exploded  just  then,  and  we  had  business  aloft.  I  don't 
exactly  remember  who  went  up  first,  or  how  we  got 
through  the  roof.  I  am  a  little  absent-minded  sometimes, 
and  this  was  one  of  the  times. 

The  boilers  made  a  great  deal  more  noise  than  there 
seemed  any  occasion  for.  The  explosion  would  have  been 
A  1  with  half  the  whizzing,  grinding  and  tearing.  One 
of  the  men  who  came  up  behind  me  seemed  to  think  that 
something  or  other  was  out  of  order,  and  he  yelled  out 
to  me: 

"  Say !  what's  all  this  ?" 

I  pointed  to  the  fat  man,  who  was  about  five  feet  ahead 
of  me,  and  then  I  began  to  practice  gymnastics.  I  went 
up  a  few  feet  right  end  up,  then  a  few  feet  more  wrong 
end  up,  and  then  I  wasn't  particular  which  way  I  went  up. 
The  golden  eagle  off  the  pilot-house  sailed  around  our 
heads,  and  it  was  a  fine  chance  for  the  fat  man  to  get  oft'  a 
handsome  eulogy  on  the  proud  bird  of  freedom.  He  didn't 
do  it,  however.  One  of  his  ears  had  been  torn  off,  a  leg 
broken,  and  flying  timbers  kept  pegging  him  every  minute. 
I  wanted  to  ask  him  to  finish  the  remark  he  commenced 
in  the  cabin,  but  he  seemed  so  cast-down  and  discouraged 
that  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  speak. 


EQi'Ai-  uicins.  ■  10 

"We  linally  arrived  there.  It  was  ii  li'ood  ways  u[t,  and 
the  route  luul  several  little  inconveiuences.  It  was  a  i;-raiul 
location  froni  which  to  view  the  surrounding  country,  ])ut 
we  didn't  stop  to  view  it.  "VVe  had  business  below,  and 
our  motto  was  business  before  pleasure. 


Business  Below. 

Somehow,  I  got  mixed  up  with  the  fat  man,  and  we 
couldn't  hardly  tell  which  was  which.  He  made  no  com- 
plaints, and  I  didn't  care,  and  so  we  got  along  very  well 
together  until  w^e  struck  the  water.  When  we  went  down 
to  look  for  bottom  we  let  go  of  each  other.  He  staid 
down  there  and  I  came  up.  A  number  of  others  also  came 
up  about  that  time.  One  man  got  hold  of  a  door  and 
warned  us  that  lie  was  a  member  of  the  Legislature,  and 
must  therefore  be  saved,  but  we  held  a  mass  convention 
and  decided  that  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States 
guaranteed  equal  rights  to  all  men,  and  we  crowded  him 
along. 

As  the  door  wouldn't  float  over  ten  or  twelve,  a  half- 
dozen  of  us  got  hold  of  l)rooms,  foot-stools,  dusters,  and 


20 


IN    FULL    DRESS. 


SO  forth,  and  compared  notes.  A  six-footer  from  Missouri 
was  rushing  around  with  a  boot-jack  in  one  hand,  a  table- 
cloth in  the  other,  and  a  look  of  anxiety  on  his  face.  As 
he  floated  near  me  he  called  out : 

"Young  man,  where  are  we  going?" 

I  called  back  that  I  was  a  stranger  in  that  locality,  and 
couldn't  say  whether  we'd  bring  up  in  New  Orleans  or 
Fort  Leavenworth. 

I  finally  got  hold  of  the  dining  table,  to  which  a  red- 
headed woman  from'  St.  Louis  was  clinging.  As  I  caught 
the  table  she  exclaimed : 

"  Go  away,  young  man — go  away  I" 


No  Time  to  be  Captious. 


I  replied  that  the  state  of  her  toilet  needn't  confuse  her 
in  the  least.  Her  dress-skirt  had  been  blown  off,  her  hair 
singed,  and  part  of  her  hoop-skirt  was  over  her  head,  but 
I  warned  her  that  it  was  about  an  even  thing.  The  band 
of  my  shirt  was  still  buttoned  around  my  neck,  and  I  had 
one  boot  on,  and  it  was  no  time  to  be  captious.    I  remarked 


TlIK    CAPTAIN  S    DUG. 


21 


to  lior  that  lier  noso  was  broken  and  several  of  her  teeth 
were  gone,  Init  slie  tired  up  and  said  I'd  better  "  look  to 
home,"  as  I  had  one  eve  ruined,  a  hole  in  my  head,  and  was 
cooked  in  a  dozen  places. 

Before  I  could  learn  much  of  her  history  we  were  drawn 
to  the  bank  and  taken  oft".  I  called  out  for  a  breadth  of 
rag  carpet  to  make  me  a  toga  of,  but  no  one  would  bring 
it,  and  I  had  to  faint  away  to  avoid  hearing  any  criticisms 
from  the  crowd. 

^\Tien  I  came  to,  a  dozen  of  us  were  piled  up  together, 
and  the  captain  of  the  boat  was  making  a  speech.     He 


The  Captain  Apologized  to  Vs. 


said  it  wasn't  his  fault,  and  that  w^e  mustn't  feel  hard 
toward  him.  He  had  lost  a  fine  dog  by  the  accident,  and 
he  couldn't  bear  any  further  burden  just  then.  He  said 
that  boats  often  blew  up  without  apparent  reason,  but  if 
he  could  ever  ascertain  the  reason  of  this  blow-up  he  w^ould 
send  us  the  particulars,  lie  seemed  like  an  honest-hearted 
man,  and  we  felt  sorry  over  the  loss  of  his  dog. 


22  THE   FAT    MAN   STILL    THERE. 

When  we  got  down  to  Cincinnati  a  policeman  asked  me 
if  it  made  any  difference  to  me  where  I  was  buried,  and 
they  sent  me  to  the  hospital  until  I  could  make  up  my 
mind.  The  hole  in  my  head  got  to  aching  about  that  time, 
and  the  last  I  remember  was  hearing  a  man  with  a  coarse 
voice  call  out : 

"  Tell  Jim  to  get  a  box  ready  for  this  corpse  !" 

Sixteen  days  after  that  I  got  my  senses  back,  and  for  the 
succeeding  six  weeks  had  a  very  easy  time.  The  coroner 
dropped  in  once  a  day  to  see  if  I  still  persisted  in  living ; 
six  daily  reporters  included  me  in  their  round  ;  the  doctors 
worked  at  the  hole  in  my  head  and  at  my  burns  by  turns, 
and  after  three  months  they  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I 
would  live.  Such  little  side  issues  as  pneumonia,  blind- 
ness, proud  flesh  and  fever  were  not  supposed  to  have  any 
bearing  on  the  main  question. 

It  isn't  good  to  be  blown  up.  There  are  better  ways  of 
ascending  and  descending.  Such  things  interrupt  travel- 
ing programmes,  and  are  often  the  foundation  of  funeral 
processions.  I  met  the  red-headed  woman  about  a  year 
ago,  and  she  was  quite  friendly,  but  the  fat  man  hasn't  been 
heard  of  since.  I  fear  that  some  of  the  machinery  of  the 
boat  got  into  his  pockets  and  held  him  down. 


LITTLE  TOM." 


IS  step  was  unsteady  and  his 
hands  trembled,  and  there 
^//f  was  that  unmeaning  look 
in  his  eyes  which  comes 
when  rum  has  benumbed 
the  brain. 

Not  thus  for  once,  but 
it  was  the  same  day  after 
day,  and  we  who  had 
known  him  for  years  and  years— who  knew  his  tender 
heart  and  his  many  noble  traits— grew  sad  and  sought  to 
pull  him  away  from  the  gulf  toward  which  his  footsteps 
tended.  He  listened  and  promised.  He  knew  that  degra- 
dation and  disgrace  were  before  him,  and  he  made  a  gal- 
lant struggle  to  walk  in  better  paths. 

We  were  made  glad  then.  The  human  heart  never  beats 
so  proudly  as  when  it  has  sympathized  with  and  encour- 
aged another  heart  to  do  right.  We  did  not  taunt  him 
with  his  failings,  and  thereby  intlict  scars  which  kind 
words  would  be  long  effacing ;  we  did  not  let  him  know 
that  we  feared  Temptation  would  overrule  his  desire  to  do 
right,  but  we  trusted  him. 

The  tempter  waited  for  him  at  every  turn,  clothed  in 
pleasant  garb  and  wearing  winning  smiles.     The  tempter 
23 


24  CLINGING    AND    HOPING. 

flattered  him,  praised  him,  ridiculed  his  good  resolutions, 
and  we  were  not  there  to  plead  our  cause.  He  came  back 
to  us  one  night  with  that  vacant  stare  and  halting  step, 
and  w^e  wondered  if  there  was  anything  wdiich  could 
strengthen  his  manhood  and  arm  him  to  resist  those  ene- 
mies who  believed  themselves  true  friends,  while  they  bound 
him  with  chains  which  held  him  down. 

He  promised  again  and  again — promised  meaning  to  be 
true,  but  coming  back  to  us  with  that  terrible,  hopeless 
look  which  strong  drink  paints  on  the  face  of  him  marked 
for  a  grave  over  which  no  eye  grows  dim,  and  on  which  no 
tear  of  love  or  sorrow  ever  falls.  At  last  we  gave  him 
up,  and  we  looked  upon  him  as  a  once  stalwart  pine  whose 
roots  had  been  loosened  by  a  mighty  flood,  and  which  now 
swayed  and  trembled,  ready  to  fall,  jet  having  something 
to  prevent  the  crash  for  a  little  time.  We  had  clung  to 
him  while  there  was  hope — ^we  waited  and  watched  and 
kept  our  hearts  open  when  hope  had  fled  away,  and  men 
wondered  that  his  grave  was  not  waiting  for  him. 

Little  Tom !  Strange  that  we  should  have  forgotten 
him  !  And  3'et  we  had  not,  for  we  knew  that  many  times 
and  oft  his  childish  words  had  cut  the  father's  heart  and 
thrilled  his  soul  more  than  any  words  of  ours — more  than 
the  prayers  and  tears  of  a  fond  wife  or  a  gray-haired 
mother.  "When  he  had  forgotten  us  who  had  labored  with 
him  like  brothers — when  the  memories  of  home  and  child- 
hood no  longer  had  a  lodging  place  in  his  heart — when 
manhood  had  been  left  groveling  in  the  dust,  then  one 
mightier  than  man  came  to  help  us.  Our  tears  fell,  and 
yet  we  knew  not  whether  to  grieve  or  rejoice. 

He  sat  at  his  table,  the  dim  gas-light  casting  strange 
shadows  over  his  bowed  head.  We  had  seen  him  thus  so 
often  that  we  could  only  pity.  Unnerved,  unstrung — 
floating  out  into  the  great  wide  ocean  wherein  wretched 


death's  .shadows.  25 

souls  arc  being  tossed  and  driven  about  with  not  one  raj- 
of  hope  to  break  the  awful  gloom — no  wonder  that  his 
pencil  was  idle  and  his  light  dim. 

A  step  on  the  stairs.  It  had  a  sound  so  unfamiliar  that 
we  raised  our  heads  and  looked  at  each  other  in  a  startled 
way  and  waited.  Step  !  step  !  it  came  nearer,  and  we  rose 
up  as  a  figure  stood  in  the  door — a  figure  with  face  so 
white  and  look  so  wild  that  we  could  not  speak.  She  saw 
the  form  at  the  table,  and  she  bent  over  it  and  almost 
shrieked : 

"  Come  home  !  Little  Tom  is  dying !" 

The  words  roused  him.  He  looked  from  her  to  us,  and 
back,  in  a  bewildered  way,  and  she  wailed : 

"  Little  Tom's  been  dying  all  day !  He  wants  you  to 
hold  him  once  more  !" 

The  Avords  drove  his  weakness  away  in  a  moment,  and 
the  bewildered  look  was  replaced  by  one  of  such  fear  and 
remorse  and  anxiety  as  no  human  face  may  ever  wear 
again.  We  went  with  them,  for  Little  Tom's  rosy  face 
and  happ3^  voice  had  \yon  him  a  place  in  our  hearts.  Seem- 
ing not  to  feel  the  earth  he  trod  upon,  nor  to  know 
whether  it  was  broad  day  or  solemn  midnight,  the  father 
hastened  on,  and  he  was  there  before  us. 

"  Little  Tom  !  speak  to  me — it's  father !"  he  wailed  as 
he  clasped  the  dying  boy  in  his  arms,  while  the  mother 
knelt  by  the  empty  crib  and  prayed  God  that  her  desolate 
hearthstone  should  not  be  further  overshadowed. 

"Father!"  whispered  the  child  as  he  unclosed  his  eyes 
and  put  death  away  for  a  brief  space. 

"  Tom  !  oh  !  my  Tom  !"  sobbed  the  father. 

"  I  wanted  you  to  hold  me !"  whispered  Tom — "  I  wanted 
you  to  kiss  me  !" 

"  Leave  my  boy — leave  me  one  thing  to  love  !"  prayed 
the  mother. 


26 


AND    WE    REJOICE. 


"  I  cannot  let  him  go — he  must  not  die !"  sobbed  the 
father. 

"  iTm  Little  TomP'  whispered  the  child — "hold  me 
tight — I  cannot  see  father !" 

We  grieved  with  them.  The  heart  knows  no  grief  like 
that  grief  which  swells  it  when  death  stills  a  little  voice 
and  folds  little  white  hands  over  a  heart  which  never  had 
an  evil  thought.  We-  grieved  then,  but  as  the  days  went 
by  and  the  weeks  made  months,  we  rejoiced.  Our  friend 
grew  strong  and  noble  and  manly  again.  The  cup  of  bit- 
ter degradation  was  dashed  to  earth,  and  he  was  strong  as 
a  lion  to  do  right  and  resist  temptation. 

So  he  stands  to-day,  and  though  we  know  that  grief  has 
dimned  his  sunshine,  and  that  his  heart  will  pain  and  swell 
as  he  remembers  the  little  grave  whose  mantle  of  grass  is 
nourished  by  a  mother's  tears,  we  thank  God  that  Little 
Tom  is  with  the  angels. 


THE  BOOK  AGENT. 


'■c^.^'~~  He  or  she  will  call  on 
you  to  sell  you  this  book. 
He  may  be  a  pale-faced   young 
man,   standing  on  the  verge  of  the 
/grave, as  it  were,  or  she  may  be  an  inter- 
esting young  lady  with  freckles  on  her 
nose  and  a  forlorn  look. 
Do  not  be  deceived.     They  will  liave  a 
deceptive   story  at  their   tongue's   end,   and 
^^      ^    i>  they  corner  you  they  will  get  oif  something 

'^  like  this : 
"  Let  me  put  your  name  down  for  this  book — best  book 
published  for  years — selling  like  hot  cakes — first  edition 
21 


28  WRITE    IT    THERE. 

exhausted  in  twenty-four  minutes — autlior  known  all  over 
tlie  country — orders  being  received  from  China,  Japan, 
Madagascar  and  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope — sold  only  by 
subscription — write  it  right  there  on  that  line." 

Do  not  rush  3-our  name  down  without  pausing  for  a  sec- 
ond sober  thought.  It  would  be  more  prudent  to  sit  down 
and  cross-examine  the  agent  a  little  and  ascertain  if  you 
would  not  be  encouraging  an  unworthy  person  by  signing 
your  name.     Ask  him  such  questions  as  these : 

"  Arc  yon  a  Mormon  ?" 

"Do  you  admire  Sixteen-String-Jack ?" 

"  Do  you  intend  to  buy  tomahawks  and  scalping-knives 
for  the  Indians  with  your  profits  ?" 

"  How  many  of  your  relatives  have  been  tried  for 
murder  ?" 

He  or  she  will  endeavor  to  evade  you  by  smiling  and 
saying : 

"  Come,  now — got  names  of  best  citizens  in  town  on  my 
books — live  hundred  pages — piles  of  pictures — beautifully 
bound — fun  and  pathos  —  author's  iirst  book — money 
couldn't  hire  him  to  write  another." 

Tell  him  or  her  to  be  calm  and  not  talk  too  much. 
Remind  him  or  her  of  the  fact  that  silence  is  golden. 
Remark  that  three  dollars  doesn't  stick  up  behind  every 
log,  and  freely  express  your  opinion  that  twenty  better 
books  are  offered  you  every  week  in  the  year. 

Book  agents  stick  to  their  game  like  a  burr  to  a  boy's 
heel,  and  he  or  she  will  preserve  a  pleasant  face  and  reply : 

"  "W^ll,  write  your  name  there — book  ready  for  delivery 
in  thirty  days — sold  forty  yesterday — ^beats  Martin  Tup- 
per's  Proverbial  Philosophy  all  to  pieces." 

If  the  agent  is  in  a  hurry  let  him  go.  Don't  be  forced 
into  committing  a  rash  act  on  account  of  his  impatience. 
New  books  appear  almost  daily.     You  can  get  one  any- 


A    AVAKNING.  29 

Avhore,  on  any  terms,  and  treating  of  any  subject.  Ask 
him  some  more  questions  : 

"  Are  tliere  any  pirate  stories  in  this  book  ?" 

"  Does  it  say  anything  about  Susan  B.  Anthony  ?" 

"  Does  it  discuss  the  Beeehor  scandal  ?" 

"  Is  it  a  book  which  an  innocent-minded  child  two  years 
old  can  safely  ])eruse  ?'' 

The  agent  will  sciuirm,  but  you  must  pin  him.  His  busi- 
ness is  to  sell,  and  he'll  get  as  many  copies  on  to  unsuspect- 
ing and  coniiding  people  as  he  can. 

Book  agents  have  worn  holes  in  my  front  door-steps  ; 
they  have  unhinged  my  gate ;  they  have  roused  me  from 
sleep,  and  have  trailed  me  up  and  down  and  hung  to  me 
until  I  could  oflbr  no  further  objections.  I  warn  the  pub- 
lic against  harboring  or  trusting  them  on  my  account. 


HIS  ANCESTRY. 


fOME  people  are  always  taking  on  about  their  ances- 
tors, and  going  to  trouble  and  expense  to  prove  that 
some  of  their  family  knew  all  about  Christopher  Columbus, 
shook  hands  with  Kang  Solomon,  or  got  down  to  Xoah's 
ark  two  minutes  too  late  for  a  passage.  In  fact,  I  used  to 
be  of  this  class.  I  had  an  idea  that  if  I  could  get  back 
to  the  beginning  of  the  Quad  family  I  should  find  some- 
thing decidedly  rich.  A  very  nice  man  in  ISTew  York  sent 
me  a  letter,  one  day,  saying  that  he  had  heard  of  my  desire, 
and  for  a  hundred  dollars  would  trace  my  genealogy  back 
to  the  year  one.  I  closed  the  bargain,  and  in  three  months 
he  sent  me  the  partial  result  of  his  efforts,  saying  that  if  I 
wanted  any  more  to  let  him  know.  lie  commenced  and 
gave  the  names  in  regular  succession  : 

'■^John  Quad. — This  old  chap  is  your 
head-center.     He  was  three  hundred 
years  old  at  the  time  of  the  flood,  and 
worth  a  great  many  millions  of  dol- 
lars, all  of  which  was  invested  in  pine 
lumber,  and  was  consequently  carried 
down  stream  when   the   rain   came. 
He  is  the  first  one  recorded  as  pick- 
ing up  stray  horses  belonging  to  some  one  else,  and  would 
have  been  hung  if  the  water  hadn't  drowned  liim  in  liis 
cell.     I  wouldn't  advise   ypu  to  say  anything  aljout   this 
30 


SECOND    A^D    THirj). 


31 


member  of  the  family,  as  some  of  your  neiglibors'  ances- 
tors might  liavc  been  on  the  jury  which  convicted  him." 
"  FhiUp  Quad. — I  lirst  lind  liim  mentioned  in  CromweH's 
time,  and  he  is  the  seventeenth  son 
of  a  Quad    still    further   back,    of 
whom  I  can  get  no  reliable  trace, 
owing  to  his  having  to  slide  out  of 
a  town  between  two  days.     Phili]> 
originated  the  '  freight-bill '  game, 
had  his  head  shaved  three  times, 
\^  ^'  '^'  and  was  possessed  of  only  one  re- 

deeming feature — ^lie  wouldn't  run  for  office.  As  a  friend, 
I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  say  anything  about  him  either. 
I  think  he  was  shot  while  stealing  chickens,  but  am  not 
certain.  I  have,  however,  put  it  down  that  way,  but  you 
can  alter  it  to  '  burglary '  if  you  choose." 

"  Samuel  Quad. — I  get  trace  of  him  during  the  voyage  of 
Columbus  to  America.  He 
was  very  anxious  to  come  along 
with  Chris,  but  circumstances 
over  which  he  had  no  control 
detained  him.  He,  however, 
came  over  afterwards — about 
the  time  that  the  Spaniards  got 
to  banishing  their  malefactors 
to  America.  Of  course,  I  don't 
presume  to  dictate,  but  I  think 
I  wouldn't  mention  Samuel,  if 
I  were  you,  as  people  will  talk." 

"  Horatio  Quad. — This  man  was  a  very  active  member  of 
your  family.  He  could  break  out  of  jail  as  fast  as  they 
could  get  him  in.  I  lirst  strike  him  during  the  palmy  days 
of  old  Rome.  He  was  a  roamun  to  the  back  bone,  and 
traveled  almost  everywhere.     He  had  the  honor  of  being 


32 


FOURTH    AND    FIFTH. 


acquainted  witli  the  chief  of  police,  deputy  Roman  marshal, 
the  constables  of  the  Tenth  Ward,  and  started  the  first 
'  sweat  board '  ever  seen  in  the  town.  He  didn't  live  to 
witness  the  decay  of  the  Roman  Empire,  owing  to  a  little 
affair  in  the  jail  court-yard.  I  don't 
recollect  the  name  of  the  sheriff  who 
oiiiciated,  or  what  the  dying  confes- 
sion of  your  relative  was,  but  I 
know  that  the  papers  said  it  was  a 
clear  case  that  he  '  croked '  Jim 
Swan  for  his  '  sugar.'  Of  course, 
you  are  there  and  I  am  here,  and  it 
wouldn't  look  well  for  a  stranger  to 
advise;  but  still,  if  you  shouldn't 
say  anything  about  Horatio,  it  would 
perhaps  be  just  as  well." 

'■'■Pytlion  Quad — Lived  in  the  days  of  Faro  and  Keno,  and 
was  a  very  able  man.  If  he  was  alive  to-day,  and  living 
in  I^ew  York,  the  detectives  would 
feel  in  duty  bound  to  follow  him 
around  town,  to  see  that  he  didn't 
get  lost.  I  don't  know  how  many 
banks  he  '  cracked,'  or  what  he  did 
with  the  plate  stolen  from  those 
thirteen  churches,  or  how  the  vigi- 
lance committee  knew  him  to  be  the 
man  w^ho  stole  Sam  Burton's  mule. 
There  are  things  in  your  family  record  which  a  stranger 
has  no  business  with,  particularly  an  honest  stranger.  If 
you  want  the  four  hundred  and  sixty-three  other  Quads 
who  lived  before  you,  I  shall  be  happy  to  go  on  with  the 
names  and  leading  eccentricities." 


'^  ■""'"?*« 


£^^f 


>' . 


M' 


^^ 


"BIJAH.' 


IS  name  is  Bijah — plain  Bijah. 

Years  and  years  ago  they  might  have 
called  him  Abijah,  but  the  name  was  too 
stiff  and  dignilicd  for  one  with  such  a  big 
heart,  and  people  shortened  it. 

Wfien  we  like  a  man  we  just  give  him 
a  familiar  name — something  which  brings 
us  closer  to  him  as  we  pronounce  it. 
"Abijah"  signified  nothing — "Bijah"  sig- 
nifies charity,  sympathy,  big-heartedness — all  that  we  can 
look  for  in  one  whose  every  day  life  has  been  a  battle  with 
want  and  toil  and  trouble,  and  whose  rough  points  were 
never  i^olished  by  contact  with  education. 

Everybody  knows  him — knows  him  as  old  and  gray  and 
nearing  the  long  sleep  of  death,  but  growing  more  tender- 
hearted every  day  towards  the  sorrowing  child,  the  unfor- 
tunate man  and  the  down-trodden  and  erring  woman. 
TVTio  has  given  more  from  his  lean  purse  to  keep  the  wolf 
from  the  door  ?  Who  has  been  more  kind  in  heart  and 
word  to  those  who  were  recklessly  driving  to  destruction 
for  want  of  a  kind  word  to  give  them  new  resolution  and 
new  faith  ?  Who  has  taken  more  steps  to  restore  the  lost 
child — to  guide  the  stranger  aright — to  keep  those  who 
might  sin,  in  the  straight  and  narrow  path? 
And  for  this  we  love  him. 
0  33 


34  MAY   HE   BE   FORGIVEN. 

We  forget  Ms  few  faults  by  remembering  Ms  many  noble 
traits,  and  we  do  not  wait  until  death  has  closed  his  eyes 
and  stilled  his  big  heart  before  we  say  that  the  world  would 
have  more  sunshine,  and  life's  battle  could  be  better  fought, 
if  there  were  more  like  Bijah. 

We  think  it  passing  strange  as  we  look  at  his  snowy 
locks  and  wrinkled  visage  that  one  who  was  cast  afloat  on 
the  sea  of  life  when  but  a  child,  and  who  has  drifted  here 
and  there  at  the  will  of  every  gale,  should  have  preserved 
such  sympathy  in  his  look  and  such  a  kind  heart  and  ten- 
der feeling.  God  made  him  so — meant  that  in  his  humble 
sphere  he  should  make  sad  hearts  glad,  and  stand  as  a  bul- 
wark to  ward  off  woe  and  misery  from  those  whom  the 
burden  might  crush  down. 

He  is  v^dowed  and  childless.  Death  has  passed  him  by, 
but  made  his  heart  sore  and  sad  often  and  again,  and  now 
in  his  old  age  he  stands  alone.  If  God  had  not  given  him 
such  charity  and  sympathy  he  would  pause  sometimes  and 
give  up  the  struggle,  but  he  has  a  mission  and  he  cannot 
halt  until  death  rises  up  in  his  path  and  will  not  be  turned 
aside.  He  has  lived  among  us  so  long  that  to  us  will  come 
the  sad  duty  of  closing  his  eyes  and  folding  the  cold  hands 
across  the  bosom  in  which  death  found  a  resting  place  at 
last.  Tears  will  fall  as  men  and  women  and  children 
know  that  he  is  dead — such  tears  as  come  when  the  heart 
swells  with  deep  sorrow.  They  will  place  flowers  on  the 
coffin,  and  as  it  rests  before  the  altar  they  will  listen  to 
hear  it  said : 

"  We  knew  him  as  one  whose  good  deeds  and  kind 
words  made  us  all  better-hearted." 

And  we  shall  hope  that  the  angels  forgave  his  sins  and 
remembered  nothing  but  his  big  heart. 


DEPRESSIONS. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


fWAS  looking  over  some  of  the  battle-fields  of  the 
Revolutionary  war  a  few  weeks  ago.  It  is  enough  to 
sadden  the  heart  of  any  sutler  to  wander  over  those 
historic  fields  and  hear  the  explanations  of  the  guides. 
One  comes  away  feeling  as  if  he  would  like  to  wrap  an 
American  fiag  around  him  and  be  knocked  down  ten  or 
fil'teen  times  in  the  name  of  Liberty. 


Spot  Where  Warren  Fell. 

I  started  out  before  breakfast  with  an  old  farmer  to  see 
the  spot  where  Warren  fell.  We  climbed  several  fences, 
worried  through  a  marsh,  and  as  we  finally  turned  the  cor- 
ner of  an  old  barn  the  farmer  waved  his  hand  and  said : 

"Behold  the  spot!" 

35 


36  THE    SECOND    FALL. 

There  it  was,  sure  enough,  looking  as  fresh  and  healthy 
as  if  a  hundred  years  had  not  beaten  a  constant  tattoo  upon 
it.  In  the  midst  of  a  small  field,  a  romantic-looking  old 
barn  in  the  distance,  was  the  depression. 

"  Did  he  fall  from  his  horse,  or  from  a  balloon  ?"  I  asked 
the  guide,  but  he  replied  that  he  couldn't  say.  It  had 
been  some  little  time  since  the  war,  and  he  had  forgotten. 

"  Struck  on  his  head,  I  suppose  ?"  I  remarked  as  I 
raised  up  to  get  a  clearer  view  of  the  spot. 

The  old  man  said  he  didn't  know  about  that;  never 
heard  any  one  say. 

" But  see  here," I  said  as  I  leaned  back;  "  how  dare  you 
call  yourself  a  guide  and  charge  me  fifty  cents  when  you 
know  nothing  of  the  history  of  this  spot  ?" 

"  "Waal,  all  I  know  is  that  this  is  the  spot  where  Gineral 
Warren  fell,"  he  replied,  and  it  was  useless  to  ask  him 
further  questions. 

I  don't  wonder  that  it  killed  the  General — the  stack  was 
torn  up  in  an  a\vful  manner. 

Two  or  three  days  after  that  I  crossed  the  fields  with  a 
farmer's  son  to  look  upon  the  spot  where  Colonel  Bligh 
fell.  Never  having  read  that  Colonel  Bligh  took  any  part 
in  the  Patriot  war,  I  should  have  missed  the  historic  spot 
had  I  not  halted  at  the  farm-house  to  get  a  drink  of  water. 
The  young  man  said  that  his  great  grandfather  was  a  cap- 
tain in  the  Patriot  army,  but  was  in  poor  health  a  great 
share  of  the  time  and  only  killed  six  hundred  and  twenty- 
eight  Britishers  during  the  seven  years,  averaging  but 
eighty-nine  soldiers  and  five-eighths  of  another  per  year. 

"  There's  the  spot,"  said  the  young  man  as  we  were 
mounting  a  five-rail  fence. 

*'  Wliere  ?" 

"Right  over  around  here  somewhere,"  he  answered, 
waving  his  hand. 


THE    THIRD    FALL. 


S7 


The  Colonel's  Fall. 


"  Was  it  on  the  marsh,  under  it,  or  around  that  sheep- 
pen  ?"  I  inquired,  giving  him  a  severe  look. 

"  Yes,  I  guess  it  was,"  he  replied. 
I  stood  there  and  sighed  and  felt 
sad.  It  is  a  hard  thing  to  have  a 
musket-ball  bore  a  tunnel  through 
a  Colonel  while  fighting  for  liberty 
and  a  fat  salary,  and  more  melan- 
choly still  to  have  straw-stacks  and 
sheep-pens  erected  over  the  spot 
where  he  poured  out  his  blood  for 
his  country. 

"  "Were  you  here  when  the  battle 
occurred?"  I  asked  of  the  young  man 
as  I  handed  him  the  fifty  cents  fee. 

"  Yes — hoeing  corn  over  in  that  lot !"  he  promptly 
replied. 

"And  did  the  fighting  disturb  you  any?" 
"  i^awt  much.  I  put  in  a  usual  day's  work." 
I  looked  at  him  and  longed  to  cull  him  a  stupendous 
liar,  but  I  reflected  that  he  lied  in  the  cause  of  liberty  and 
unity,  and  therefore  held  my  peace.  Wlien  we  reached 
the  house  I  asked  the  young  man's  mother  what  the  name 
of  the  battle-field  was,  and  she  replied  that  she  couldn't 
exactly  remember,  but  thought  it  was  "Astronomy,"  or 
some  such  high-sounding  name. 

A  few  days  after  that  the  landlord  of  a  country  tavern 
sent  his  hostler  to  show  me  the  spot  where  General  Colby 
fell.  We  climbed  fences,  waded  a  creek  and  fell  over  logs, 
and  finally  halted  near  an  old  cider-mill. 

"  There,  sir,  we've  got  to  the  spot,"  said  the  hostler, 
throwing  away  a  quid  of  tobacco  which  must  have  cost 
him  fifteen  or  twenty  cents. 

"  Where  is  the  spot  ?"  I  demanded. 


38  THE   FOURTH    FALL. 

"  Right  around  here,"  he  replied. 

When  he  found  that  wouldn't  do,  and  that  he  had  got 
to  come  to  time,  he  looked  around  and  found  the  exact 
spot.  A  large  hog  had  taken  possession  of  the  cavity,  and 
I  begged  of  the  guide  not  to  disturb  the  porker,  which 
could  be  nothing  less  that  a  patriotic  hog. 


The  Spot  Where  Colby  Fell. 

"  You  are  sure  that's  the  spot  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  know  it — I  know  it !"  he  replied. 

"  What  made  General  Colby  fall  there  ?"  I  continued  ; 
"  why  didn't  he  go  down  to  the  tavern  and  fall  on  a  bed  ?" 

"  I  never  asked  any  one,"  returned  the  guide ;  "  all  I 
know  is  that  he  fell  there." 

"  Did  he  stub  his  toe  ?" 

"  Dunno — never  axed  'um." 

"Was  he  stealing  water-melons,  hunting  coons  or 
making  cider  ?"  I  inquired  as  we  started  to  return. 

"  Less  see  !"  he  mused,  shutting  one  eye  and  feeling  for 
the  top-rail  of  the  fence — "  I'll  be  dummed  'f  I  can  remem- 


THE    FIFTH    FALL. 


39 


ber,  thoiigli  it  seems  as  if  I  heard  a  feller  say  there  was  a 
fight  here,  or  sunthin'  or  other." 

The  next  day  I  was  a  hundred  miles  away,  looking  at 
the  spot  where  Captain  Sullivan  fell.  I  hired  a  horse  and 
buggy  at  a  little  village  and  drove  over  to  the  spot  with  a 
man  who  was  selling  township  rights  to  manufacture  a 
patent  clothes-wringer.  A  farmer  who  saw  us  crossing  his 
orchard  came  out  to  meet  us  in  the  name  of  Liberty  and 
exact  a  fee  of  fifty  cents  each.  If  he  hadn't  been  at  home 
we  should  have  missed  the  spot  altogether,  as  a  scarecrow 
had  been  placed  there  to  keep  the  birds  out  of  the  cherry 
trees  just  over  the  fence. 


Spot  Where  Slllivav  Pell. 

"  Arc  you  sure  that  this  is  the  identical  spot  where  Cap- 
tain SulHvan  fell  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Nobody  but  a  traitor  will  doubt  it,"  replied  the  farmer. 

"  And  was  he  killed  ?" 

"  They  say  he  was." 

"  Hit  by  a  bullet  or  struck  by  a  brick-bat  ?" 

"  I  dunno." 


40  FALLING   AWAY. 

"  Did  he  utter  any  last  words  !" 

"  He  mought — I  dunno." 

"  "Was  he  a  Democrat  or  a  Republican  ?" 

"  I  dunno." 

We  went  away  with  sad  hearts,  and  as  we  turned  for  a 
last  look  at  the  historic  spot  my  companion  uncovered  his 
head  and  said  : 

"  Oh  !  glorious  Liberty,  'tis  sweet  indeed  to  die  for  thee  ! 
Township  rights,  including  a  full  set  of  rollers,  only  twenty- 
five  dollars !" 


GOING  TO  PIC-NICS. 


fHAVE!N''T  been  to  one  in  seven  long  years,  but  it 
still  thrills  me  to  come  across  an  advertisement  read- 
ing that  this  or  that  Sunday  school  or  society  proposes 
to  give  a  river  excursion  or  U  railroad  trip  for  the  purpose 
of  raising  a  few  hundred  dollars  to  found  an  orphan  asylum 
or  pay  off  a  debt. 

No  man  ever  enjoyed  himself  on  an  excursion  or  at  a 
pic-nic  more  than  I  used  to. 

Wife  and  I  always  had  a  week  to  get  ready  in,  and  the 
bill  for  eatables  and  new  garments  never  amounted  to  over 
forty  dollars. 

For  six  days  we  baked,  washed  turned  the  house  upside 
down,  talked  about  the  cool  breezes  and  shady  trees,  and 
were  then  ready  to  start. 

Got  up  at  four  o'clock  a.  m.  to  catch  the  boat. 

Got  the  six  children  washed  and  dressed  by  seven. 

Got  mad  by  eight. 

Got  down  to  the  boat  by  nine. 

Counted  up  the  children,  the  baskets  and  bundles,  and 
found  all  there. 

The  boat  was  advertised  to  start  at  sharp  nine,  and  she 
started — up  to  another  wharf,  and  laid  there  until  eleven. 

During  the  interval  some  one  stole  my  cold  chickens,  a 
fat  woman  sat  down  on  our  baby,  and  my  wife  fell  over  the 
gang-plank  and  knocked  her  nose  out  of  shape. 

Boat  finally  started  for  the  island. 
41 


42  SEVERAL    THINGS. 

We  had  just  commenced  to  feel  how  good  it  was  to  leave 
the  dustv  city  behind  when  a  fellow  stuck  his  cane  into  my 
eye,  and  Small  Pica  got  a  peanut  in  his  mnd-pipe.  While 
wife  was  shaking  him  she  lost  her  hat  overboard,  and  a 
boy  threw  her  sun-umbrella  over  for  the  hat  to  hang 
onto. 

Several  fights. 

We  got  on  the  larbord  side  of  the  wheel-house,  counted 
noses,  and  discovered  that  William  Henry  was  missing. 
Went  in  search  of  him,  and  found  him  in  possession  of  a 
fellow  who  weighed  one  hundred  and  ninety  pounds  and 
had  a  red  nose.  He  said  he  recognized  William  Henry  as 
a  child  stolen  from  Cleveland  fourteen  years  before,  and 
before  we  got  through  with  it  my  eyes  looked  over  plum- 
colored  hills  and  his  teeth  were  all  out. 


Finally  reached  the  island  - 
and  the  cool  shade. 

The  aforesaid  shade  was  thrown  over  us  from  an  ancient 
board  fence,  the  trees  having  been  monopolized  by  the 
nine  hundred  people  who  landed  before  we  did. 

Commenced  to  rain. 

Cleared  off  just  about  the  time  we  had  been  soaked 
through. 


SEVERAL    MORE   THINGS.  43 

Mrs.  Quad  began  wishing  she  liad  remained  at  home, 
hut  I  silenced  her  by  declaring  that  it  was  our  duty  to  our 
children  to  shake  oif  the  dust  once  in  awhile  and  get  out 
among  the  cool  breezes. 

Ate  our  lunch. 

There  was  one  pickle  for  each  of  us,  and  a  bologna  for 
the  baby. 

Owing  to  the  diiferent  varieties  of  soil  on  the  island, 
William  Henry  had  a  blue  clay  stain  on  his  back,  Susan 
represented  a  moist  loam,  Archimedes  bore  off  the  palm 
on  Ohio  clay,  and  Bertha  and  the  baby  appeared  in  all  the 
grandeur  of  bottom  lands. 

Concluded  to  go  in  search  of  shady  dells  and  silent 
glades. 

Found  a  dell  with  two  dead  horses  in  it,  and  the  glades 
were  full  of  floating  logs. 

Mrs.  Quad  thought  we  had  better  wander  along  the 
pebbly  beach  and  gather  some  shells,  and  we  wandered. 

Gathered  an  old  boot,  a  pop-bottle,  a  broken  oar,  and 
then  went  in  search  of  help  to  pry  my  family  out  of  the 
quick-sand.  AVlien  w^e  were  all  together  on  the  grass 
again  we  concluded  to  go  to  the  boat. 

Went  there. 

Waited  four  hours  for  her  to  start. 

She  started  and  got  stuck. 

Waited  two  hours  and  she  got  off. 

Several  fights. 

One  fat  man  overboard. 

One  lean  woman  overboard. 

Everybody  else  over-bored. 

More  fights. 

The  steamer  finally  went  ahead,  and  struck  another  bar. 

Was  admitted  to  the  bar — half  her  length. 

More  waiting. 


44 


HOW    WE    NOW    DO, 


More  fights,  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 
Got  to  the  wharf  at  midnight. 
Got  home  at  one. 
Got  to  bed  at  two. 
Got  up  at  three  to  go  for  the  doctor. 
He  said  it  was  three  cases  of  croup,  one  of  exhaustion, 
and  two  of  general  debility. 

The  rest  of  us  in  usual  s-ood  health. 


Since  that  date  we  do  not  go  on  "  picked  excursions  "  to 
shady  islands,  when  we  want  recreation  from  care  and 
relief  from  the  heat — ^we  jam  ourselves  into  cattle-cars, 
ride  thirty  miles  to  some  grove,  get  in  the  shade  of  an  old 
barn,  and  pity  the  miserable  people  who  remained  at  home. 


PRIMROSE." 


t 
^7p  XE^T^.R  asked  why  tliev  called  him  "Primrose."     I 

jJjT.  presume  it  was  a  iiick-name,  but  in  those  days  the 
<4     fewer  questions  one  asked  of  Nevada  people  the  bet- 
ter he  got  along. 

I  hadn't  the  least  idea  that  there  was  a  newspaper  within 
two  hundred  miles  of  me,  and  was  therefore  dumbfounded 
at  looking  out  of  the  stage-coach  window  and  observing 


I<IV5jl<IiJ^¥   9^f%^    IX   X5jVSf)S. 


fession. 


I  got  out  of  the  coach,  tell- 
ing the  driver  that  I  would 
lay  over,  and  walked  across 
the  street  to  the  office.  There 
were  no  stairs  to  climb.  It 
was  a  rude  shanty,  and  the 
door  was  ajar. 

As    I   went    in    I    beheld 
Primrose  seated  at  the  edito- 
rial table,  surrounded  by  the 
implements  of  his  noble  pro- 
Ile  eyed  me  suspiciously  as  I  looked  around  the 
45 


46 


WAITING    FOR    A    VACANCY. 


office  and  took  a  mental  inventory,  but  when  I  sat  down 
on  the  corner  of  the  table  and  told  him  that  I  was  a  weary 
stranger,  out  of  a  job  and  looking  for  work,  his  counten- 
ance brightened  up  and  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"  You  want  a  sit,  eh  V  he  inquired,  rubbing  at  the  patch 
on  his  cheek. 

I  replied  that  I  did,  and  he  leaned  back  and  seemed  to 
ponder  for  several  minutes.     Finallv  he  said : 

"  "Well,  I  dunno.  I've  got  a  man  now,  and  he's  a  buster. 
He  can  stick  type,  write  editorial,  gather  local,  work 
press,  or  fight  a  whole  crowd.  I've  got  him  now,  but  there 
may  be  a  vacancy  before  night.  "We  two  are  going  over  to 
the   hills   this   afternoon    to  canvass  for  subscribers   and 


'"-"-t. 


A„ 


write  up  a  new  '  find,'  and  there's  no  knowing 
how  we'll  come   out.     There's  a  rough  crowd 
over  there,  and  the  camp  is  sort  o'  down  on  the 
^==f         Gazette.     If  you'll   hang   around   until    night 
you'll  know  one  way  or  the  other." 

I  decided  to  wait,  and  as  soon  as  his  foreman  came  in 


HAD    GOT    TIRED. 


47 


Primrose  buckled  on  his  armory,  and  tliej  mounted  mules 
and  rode  away,  leaving  me  in  charge. 

As  I  afterwards  learned,  the  pair  reached  the  hills  all 
right,  and  were  cordially  received.  The  reception  was 
most  too  cordial.  The  miners  dropped  shovel  and  pick, 
and  the  illustration  on  the  preceding  page  will  give  the 
reader  a  faint  idea  of  what  followed. 

The  foreman  was  a  man  of  great  pluck  and  endurance, 
but  he  couldn't  hold  out  against  such  a  demonstration, 

and  the  last  Primrose 
saw  of  him  he  was  being- 
laid  away  to  rest  in  the 
bed  of  "Pizen"  river. 
The  editor  had  luck  on 
his  side,  and  though  sev- 
eral revolvers  blazed  at 
him  as  he  jumped  from 
a  cliif,  the  bullets  went 
wild. 

I  waited  two  daj^s  and 
then  continued  my  jour- 
ney. About  a  hundred 
miles  west  found  Prim- 
rose. He  had  rented  a 
shanty  in  an  embryo  city,  and  was  making  a  bargain  with 
a  teamster  to  go  up  and  bring  back  the  office. 

"  Xo,  it  wasn't  very  hot  up  there,"  he  replied  as  I  ques- 
tioned him,  "  but  I  was  tired  of  being  shot  at  by  the  same 
old  crowd !" 


Slbscribers  Paying  I'p. 


THE   HOODLUM. 


'  0"W1TS  and  villages  could  get  along  very  well 
without  him,  but  what  could  a  city  do  with- 
out its  hoodlum — its  brigade  of  hoodlums ! 
Lor'  bless  him,  in  spite  of  his  rags  and  dirt 
and  his  "  sass  !" 

It  requires  nerve  and  courage  to  be  a  hood- 
lum. The  boy  has  got  to  have  the  heart  of 
a  man,  the  courage  of  a  lion,  and  the  consti- 
tution of  an  Arab.  Only  one  in  a  hundred  gives  him 
credit  for  half  his  worth.  No  one  cares  whether  he  grows 
fat  or  starves ;  whether  Fortune  lifts  him  up  or  casts  him 
down ;  whether  night  finds  him  quarters  in  a  box  or  a 
comfortable  bed.  He's  a  hoodlum,  and  hoodlums  are  gen- 
erally supposed  capable  of  getting  along  somehow,  the 
same  as  a  horse  turned  out  to  graze. 

Not  one  boy  in  ten  can  be  a  hoodlum.  Nature  never 
overstocks  the  market.  If  left  an  orphan  the  average  boy 
dies,  or  has  relatives  to  care  for  him,  or  falls  in  the  way  of 
a  philanthropist  and  comes  up  a  straight-haired  young  man 
with  a  sanctimonious  look.  The  true  hoodlum  is  born  to 
the  business.  He  swallows  marbles  and  thimbles  as  soon 
as  he  can  creep,  begins  to  fall  down  stairs  when  a  year  old, 
and  is  found  in  the  alley  as  soon  as  he  can  walk.  He 
receives  numerous  maulings  from  the  boys,  gets  a  semi- 
48 


THE   FUTURE   PRESIDENTS. 


SOME    MORE   OF    IIIM.  49 

dail}-  lickiiiG:  ^^'  homo,  and  wlion  able  to  talk  plain  is  an 
accomplished  swearer  and  ready  to  enter  upon  Ms  combat 
with  the  world. 

About  this  time  his  father  dies  or  runs  away,  or  his 
mother  dies  or  elopes,  and  the  hoodlum  is  free  to  go  and 
come.  The  neighbors  hate  the  boy  because  he  has  l)roken 
their  windows  and  knocked  pickets  off  the  fence,  and  they 
have  no  care  for  his  future.  Once  in  a  great  while  some 
one  may  halt  him  and  ask  him  if  he  ever  heard  of  the 
Bible,  or  Heaven,  or  the  angels,  and  hands  go  up  in  aston- 
ishment to  find  that  he  never  has.  Something  ought  to  be 
done  with  him,  but  who  shall  take  him  and  train  him? 
Every  pedestrian  will  assert  that  the  boy  is  a  heathen,  but 
he  is  left  to  run  his  career,  as  before.  It's  no  one's  duty 
in  particular  to  wash  him  up,  give  him  a  square  meal,  put 
decent  garments  on  his  back  and  then  seek  to  make  a  man 
of  him,  and  so  the  boy  becomes  further  initiated  into  the 
hoodlum  business.  He  knows  that  people  look  down  on 
him ;  that  no  one  cares  for  him ;  that  he  has  the  whole 
world  to  fight  against,  and  he  hardens  his  heart  and  grows 
suspicious  and  ugly.  When  a  long-haired  man  halts  him 
and  wants  to  know  if  he  has  ever  been  to  Sunday  school 
the  hoodlum  promptly  replies  : 

"  Oh  !  sling  a  dictionary  at  me  !" 

There  are  plenty  to  teach  him  evil,  and  the  hoodlum  at 
ten  is  thirty  years  old  in  sin.  He  remembers  when  Jem 
Mace  and  Heenan  had  their  little  bout,  can  name  the  lead- 
ing race-horses,  and  the  game  of  euchre  is  old  with  him. 
He  may  skulk  into  a  barn  at  nine  in  the  morning,  or  he 
may  hang  around  until  midnight  and  then  make  his  bed 
in  a  door-way  or  a  box,  to  be  astir  again  at  early  dawn. 

The  hoodlum  gets  knocked,  and  he  knocks  back.  Older 
and  more  wicked  hoodlums  steal  from  him,  and  he  gets 
even  by  stealing  from  the  public.     He  closely  studies  the 


50  BUT   BLESS   HIM. 

habits  of  house-owners.  He  knows  that  axes  are  fre- 
quently left  in  back  yards,  and  that  buck-saws,  saw-bucks, 
scrap-iron  and  the  like  find  ready  market  at  the  junk- 
buyer's.  While  other  people  promenade  the  avenues  he 
prowls  through  the  alleys.  He  is  familiar  with  the  width 
and  depth  of  every  back  yard  in  his  beat,  and  he  knows 
to  a  cent  what  plunder  is  worth.  The  hoodlum  sometimes 
makes  a  mistake  and  is  captured  and  imprisoned,  but  as 
a  rule  his  keenness  and  fleetness  are  too  much  for  the  law. 
While  other  people  sleep  he  prowls;  he  forgets  what  a  bed 
is  like ;  he  gets  to  believe  that  decayed  oranges  and  crack- 
ers make  a  meal  fit  for  a  king ;  he  prides  himself  on  a 
black  eye,  and  he  sits  on  the  curbstone  and  tells  great  lies 
of  how  he  has  traveled  and  what  he  has  seen. 

But,  bless  the  hoodlum.  We  can  look  at  him  and 
admire  the  brave  heart  which  backs  the  boy  against  the 
whole  world,  or  we  can  hold  him  up  as  an  example  of 
youthful  depravity,  and  warn  other  boys  not  to  be  like 
him.  We  can  use  him  in  an  argument  against  one  going 
to  Africa  to  find  heathens,  or  we  can  point  to  his  bad  deeds 
and  urge  that  the  law  deprive  society  of  his  presence.  He 
steals  our  penstock  spout,  but  blacks  our  boots ;  he  carries 
off  the  family  axe,  but  brings  the  family  paper  each  morn- 
ing ;  he  breaks  our  window,  steals  our  dog  and  hooks  the 
clothes-line,  but  he  can  be  trusted  for  an  errand.  We 
couldn't  have  Fourth  of  July  without  him,  and  we  all  won- 
der, even  as  we  blame  him,  why  he  is  not  ten  times  worse. 


THERE  WERE  BUGS  THERE. 


^LL  the  officers  and  crew  of  the  old  steamer  "  Pan- 
ther," a  Missouri  River  stern-wheeler,  had  got  used 
to  the  bugs  which  persisted  in  living  in  and  around  the 
bunks  and  berths,  and  we  sometimes  wondered  why  pas- 
sengers couldn't  put  up  with  such  little  annoyances  for  a 
night  without  the  loudest  kind  of  complaining. 

One  night  we  took  on  a  lone  passenger  at  Leavenworth. 
He  was  an  old  man,  and  a  very  grave  and  solemn  man, 
telling  the  captain,  I  believe,  that  he  was  a  New  Englander, 
out  west  as  a  missionary. 

We  had  a  full  load  of  freight,  were  running  up  stream, 
making  slow  time,  and  the  solemn  man  got  to  bed  early. 
He  hadn't  been  in  his  state-room  half  an  hour  when  he  was 
heard  thrashing  around,  and  directly  he  came  into  the 
cabin,  half-dressed,  face  wearing  an  anxious  look,  and  he 
inquired  of  the  steward : 

"  Sir,  is  the  capting  on  board?" 

"Just  gone  to  his  state-room,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Call  him — call  him  at  once !  I  have  important  busi- 
ness !"  said  the  old  man. 

The  captain  was  routed  out,  and  as  he  inquired  what  was 
up,  the  old  man  approached  him,  extended  his  right  arm 
until  the  fore-finger  was  within  an  inch  of  the  captain's 
nose,  and  in  a  hoarse  voice  he  whispered : 

"  Sir !  do  you  know  that  there  are  bugs  aboard  this 
boat?" 

61 


52 


FOUND    MORE    BUGS. 


"Y-e-s — aliem — that   is,  there   may  be,"  answered  the 
captain.     Then  turning  to  the  steward  he  continued : 
"James,  change  him  to  'No.  7." 

The  old  man  was  changed  to  another  state-room,  the 

captain  returned  to  bed, 
and  all  went  smoothly  for 
about  twenty-five  minutes, 
when  the  old  man  again 
appeared  in  the  cabin. 
"Call  the  capting!"  he 
said  to  a  negro  waiter  who 
happened  to  be  passing. 
"  Call — the — capting — 
at  once !"  continued  the 
old  man,  in  a  decided 
tone. 

The  captain  was  routed 
^^^p  out,   and   he  was   hardly 

"Bugs  Aboard."  OUtside    the    door    of    his 

state-room  when  the  old  man  whispered  : 

"  Bugs,  sir!    More  bugs  !" 

""Well,  I  can't  help  it!"  angrily  exclaimed  the  captain. 
**  Confound  it !  what  can  I  do  about  it  ?  You  can  take 
the  next  state-room." 

The  old  man  turned  into  N"o.  5,  and  it  was  near  mid- 
night before  he  was  heard  from  again,  except  an  occa- 
sional groan.  All  at  once  he  jumped  out  into  the  cabin, 
walked  across  to  the  captain's  state-room,  and  began  pound- 
ing in  a  furious  manner. 

"Ho!  Wlioa!  What's  up!"  shouted  the  captain, 
throwing  off  sleep  and  jumping  out  of  bed. 

"  Capting !  Capting !"  called  the  old  man. 

"  Is  that  you  ?  What  do  you  want  ?"  demanded  the  cap- 
tain, as  he  stepped  out  of  his  room. 


AND    SOME    MORE. 


53 


"  Bugs,  sir — B-u-G-s  !"  whispered  the  old  man. 

"Well,  hang  it,  I  can't  clean  'em  out  to-night,  can  I!" 
growled  the  captain.  "  I  guess  you're  nervous.  The  bugs 
don't  disturb  me  any.  Go  into  No.  9,  there,  and  if  you 
rout  me  out  again  I'll  put  you  ashore  in  the  woods,  blamed 
if  I  don't!" 


More  Bugs. 

The  old  man  made  no  reply,  but  turned  into  No.  9,  and 
it  was  an  hour  after  midnight  before  the  bugs  got  too 
many  for  him.  They  finally  rolled  him  out  of  bed,  and 
he  got  up,  dressed,  locked  his  satchel,  and  walked  across 
the  cabin  to  the  captain's  door  and  pounded  away  with  his 
fist. 

"  Hi !  there — what  is  it!"  called  the  captain. 

"  Capting,  arise!"  exclaimed  the  old  man. 

"  I'll  arise  you,  if  you  don't  stop  this  fooling  around !" 
replied  the  captain. 

"  Capting,  I  desire  to  see  you  !"  continued  the  old  man. 

The  captain  got  into  his  pantaloons,  opened  the  door 
and  said: 

"Well,  what  now?" 

"  Bugs — larger  buys .'"  whispered  the  passenger. 


54 


HAD   A    PREFERENCE. 


"  Didn't  I  tell  you  I'd  jDut  you  ashore  if  you  made  any 
more  fuss  about  those  bugs !"  roared  the  captain. 

"  You  did — ^you  did,"  replied  the  old  man — "  and  now  I 
leant  you  to  do  itF' 

"You  do?" 

"  Yes,  my  friend — I  prefer  the  woods  to  the  bugs !  Stop 
your  old  boat !" 


Stop  Your  Old  Boat. 


The  steamer  was  hugging  the  Missouri  shore,  and  the 
captain  stopped  her,  pushed  out  the  plank,  and  the  old 
man  jumped  to  the  bank,  landing  a  dozen  miles  from  any 
house.  We  delayed  hauling  in  the  plank,  not  liking  to 
leave  him  there,  but  the  stranger  took  a  seat  on  the  bank, 
looked  calmly  down  upon  us,  and  as  the  boat  moved  away, 
he  called  out : 

"  Capting,  don't  feel  hard  to'ards  me,  but  I  can't  stand 
bugs !" 


A  SAD   SONG. 


lE"  tlie  years  gone  by,  an  old  Michigan  quill- 
driver  named   Blake  went  to    Detroit  on 
business,  he  being  then  connected  with  a 
paper  in  the  western  part  of  the  State.     He 
ST^P^      got  pretty  full  by  evening,  but  was  invited 
into  the   ladies'  parlor  of  the  hotel,  with 
others,  to  hear  a  young  lady  initiate  a  new 
\J7^^i%'''^  piano.     After  she  had  played  several  tunes 
"^^^VO^  Blake  asked  her  to  play  "  Lily  Dale."    She 
'^iYY'      complied,  and  he  sat  down  on  a  chair  and 
J  ^Q  f         cried,  excusing  his  action  by  saying  to  the 
J^^      crowd: 
"  It's  a  sad  song,  and  it  always  puts  me  in  mind  of  my 
dead  mother." 

It  was  played  again,  and  Blake  went  to  bed  with  "  Lily 
Dale "  ringing  in  his  cars.  He  occupied  the  same  bed 
^vith  a  merchant's  clerk,  the  hotel  being  crowded,  and  soon 
after  turning  in  a  dog  commenced  to  howl  in  the  back 
yard,  "  "Woooo-hoo-hoo  !"  wailed  the  dog,  and  Blake  sat 
up  in  bed  and  exclaimed  : 
"  There's  '  Lily  Dale '  again  !" 

"  Git  out — it's  only  a  dog  howling,"  replied  the  clerk, 

"  Stranger,"  said  Blake  as  he  turned  his  head,  "  stranger, 

if  you'd  lost  your  poor  old  mother  and  felt  as  bad  as  I  do 

you'd  bet  fifty  dollars  to  five  that  it  was  '  Lily  Dale.'    Yes, 

it's  that  same  song,  and  I've  got  to  cry  again !" 

65 


56 


BOUND   TO    CRY. 


"  I  tell  you  it's  the  landlord's  brindled  dog !"  protested 
the  clerk. 

"  It  can't  be,  I  know  by  my  feelings  it  hain't,"  replied 
Blake.  "  When  the  strains  of  that  sad  melody  cross  my 
heart-strings  I'd  cry  if  it  was  Fourth  of  July  and  every 
brass  band  in  Michigan  was  in  the  front  door  yard  playing 
*  Yankee  Doodle!'" 

And  he  got  up  and  sat  down  on  the  lid  of  a  chest  and 
wept  profusely,  while  the  clerk  nearly  choked  himself  with 
laughter. 


THE  OLD  FIREMAN. 


JIlJE  may  still  be  found  in  small  towns  and  villages, 
^^^  here  and  there,  but  the  old  fireman  has  had  his  day. 
He  knows  it,  and  he  sighs  as  he  hangs  up  his  trumpet  and 
removes  his  belt. 

Steam — hissing,  pushing,  throbbing  steam  is  too  much 
for  human  muscle. 

The  old  fireman  was  in  his  glory  twenty  years  ago.  No 
statesman's  heart  thrilled  with  greater  pride  over  a  success- 
ful speech  than  did  the  old  fireman's  as  he  took  the  lead 
of  the  company — the  two 
long  lines  in  red  shirts, 
and  moved  the  hand-en- 
gine down  to  the  bridge 
and  dropped  the  suction 
into  the  river.  He  was 
a  captain — a  colonel — a 
general — and  he  wouldn't 
have  exchanged  positions 
with  the  Czar  of  Russia. 
No  general,  urging  his 
men  to  go  in  and  cover 
themselves  with  glory, 
could  get  that  deep,  pomp-  them  hose. 

0U8  voice  which  the  old  fireman  secured  as  he  called  out : 

"  Back  'er  up — man  the  brakes  V* 
57 


58 


SHE   TAKES. 


On  his  head  was  a  leather  hat,  surmounted  by  a  golden 
eagle — around  his  waist  a  broad  belt  bearing  the  w^ord 
"Foreman,"  and  as  he  braced  himself  for  the  next  call  he 
felt  that  the  mayor  of  the  town  was  a  pigmy — a  cipher — 
an  atom. 

"Lay  them  hose  !" 

That  was  the  next  order,  and  he  walked  down  the  street 
to  see  the  pipe  put  on  and  to  direct  that  the  stream  be 
thrown  over  Baker's  tin-shop  or  McFarland's  horse-barn. 
As  he  walked  back  to  the  engine  he  scowled  fiercely  at 
the  small  boys,  nodded  distantly  to  the  men  who  worked 
side  by  side  with  him  in  the  shop,  and  wondered  how  his 
wife  dared  smile  at  him  so  familiarly. 


Work 


Bar'  Down. 

'er  easy!"  he  whispered  as  he  mounted  the 
engine. 

It  was  a  fearful  moment.  Perhaps  she  would  "  take  " 
water,  perhaps  not.  The  "  perhaps  "  were  always  two  to 
one  where  the  engine  was  drawn  out  to  a  fire  once  in  six 
or  eight  months. 

She  took. 


NOW    BREAK    'eR  ! 


59 


The  air  rushed  down  the  hose,  followed  by  water,  and 
water  finally  leaped  from  the  nozzle  iu  a  sickly  stream. 
Then  came  the  next  order : 

"  Bar'  down  a  little  !" 

The  men  at  the  brakes  put  on  more  muscle,  and  the 
stream  leaped  to  the  roof  of  the  barn,  strikins^  the  shingles 
with  a  squashy  sort  of  splash.  The  small  boys  yelled,  the 
women  waved  their  handkerchiefs,  and  one  property-holder 
turned  to  another  and  remarked : 

"  If  Scrubtown  only  had  such  an  engine,  property  would 
jump  right  up,  and  folks  would  settle  there !" 


5^ 

"Break  'er." 

Tlie  foreman  looked  down  on  the  crowd  and  smiled.  It 
was  a  benign  smile.  It  was  a  smile  which  conveyed  a 
warning  to  the  close  observer  that  the  engine  was  only 
playing  with  herself,  and  that  slie  would  presently  stand 
upon  her  hind  wheels  and  howl  and  astonish  that  town. 

The  face  of  more  than  one  small  boy  grew  serious  as  its 
owner  wondered  if  it  were  possible  that  he  would  ever  rise 
to  that  proud  station.     He  knew  that  there  were  a  thou- 


60 


BREAK    'eR    hard  ! 


sand  chances  against  liim,  and  even  as  lie  watched  the 
stream  battering  at  the  shingles  he  sighed  and  felt  his  heart 
sneaking  down  toward  his  hare  feet. 

The  foreman  straightened  wp. 

Victory  lurked  in  his  eyes. 

He  raised  his  trumpet. 

"  Break  'er  /" 

The  red-shirted  men  uttered  a  yell  as  they  bore  down  on 
the  brakes. 

The  stream  crept  up  to  within  three  feet  of  the  ridge- 
pole, and  playing  through  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of 
hose  at  that.  The  fate  of  kingdoms  hung  in  the  balance ; 
America's  future  greatness  depended  on  the  next  minute. 


Break  'eb  HabdI' 


The  boys  were  yelling. 

The  women  were  applauding. 

The  men  were  shouting. 

The  stream  was  gaining. 

A  bland  smile  covered  the  foreman's  face. 

s  trumpet,  and  then 


He  raised 


J 


SHADOWS    OF    THE    PAST.  61 

"  Break  'er,  boys — hard — hard — tear  'cr — hip — ha — yee 
yup — down — down  !" 

He  leaped  up  and  down — he  shook  his  trumpet — he 
brayed — ^be  screamed,  and  the  stream  crept  up,  up,  and 
finally  shot  clear  over  the  ridge,  and  the  proud  day  was 
won — America  was  safe  ! 

Most  of  us  were  there  at  one  time  or  other,  and  when 
we  let  up  on  the  brakes  and  swung  our  hats  and  yelled, 
we  felt  it — knew  that  we  could  knock  the  eye-brows  off 
the  biggest  conflagration  that  ever  got  a  start. 

Ah !  well !  This  subtle  giant  which  plows  the  steamer 
across  the  trackless  ocean — turns  monster  machinery,  and 
is  our  companion  in  every  walk  of  daily  life,  has  defaced 
the  play-grounds  of  childhood  and  effaced  more  than  one 
tender  memory  of  youth ;  and  when  the  day  comes  for  the 
old  fireman  to  hang  his  trumpet  on  the  shadow  of  the  past 
and  throw  his  red  shirt  aside  to  add  to  memory's  trophies, 
we  who  have  kept  the  drag-rope  taut  cannot  repress  a 
sigh,  and  must  feel  a  dark  shadow  cross  the  sunlight  of 
recollection. 


SHE  HAD  A  HEART  AFTER  ALL. 


VERYTHma  looked  so  grim  and  silent 
around  the  house  that  the  door  was  burst 
in  and  they  found  the  old  woman  dead. 
She  had  lived  there  for  years  and  years. 
People  knew  her,  yet  no  one  knew  her. 
Some  called  her  "  Old  I^an,"  and  some 
thought  her  a  witch.  She  never  left  her 
yard,  never  spoke  to  any  one  except  to 
snarl  and  growl,  and  a  lone  sailor  drifting  about  on  the 
ocean  could  not  have  been  more  distant  from  love  and 
sympathy. 

No  one  ever  called  twice  on  "  Old  Nan "  for  charity. 
Beggars  sometimes  knocked  at  her  humble  door,  but  as 
soon  as  they  saw  her  witch-like  face,  bent  form  and  mena- 
cing look,  they  hurried  away,  marking  the  house  that  they 
might  not  call  again.  If  you  had  asked  any  of  the  neigh- 
bors if  the  old  woman  had  a  heart — could  feel  love,  pity 
or  tenderness — if  there  was  anything  which  could  get  down 
through  the  crust  of  disappointment,  avarice  and  despair, 
and  touch  the  nature  which  God  gives  every  woman,  they 
would  have  laughed  in  derision.  And  yet  she  had  a  heart, 
and  it  was  touched.  Death  touched  it. 
62 


ALMOST   WORE   A   SMILE.  63 

She  did  not  die  in  licr  bed.  She  might  have  been  ill  for 
three  or  four  days,  but  she  did  not  call  out  and  ask  for 
assistance.  Perhaps  she  knew  her  time  had  come,  and 
that  no  human  hand  could  aid  her,  and  as  she  felt  the 
weight  of  Death's  shadow  she  was  a  woman  again.  There 
were  longings  in  her  heart,  new  feelings  in  her  soul,  and 
no  one  can  say  that  she  did  not  weep.  She  crept  off  the 
bed,  made  her  way  to  an  old  chest,  and  from  its  depths  she 
pulled  up  an  old  and  tattered  Testament.  Between  its 
leaves  were  two  cards.  On  one  was  pinned  a  lock  of  hair, 
tied  with  faded  ribbon — a  brown,  curly  lock,  such  as  you 
might  clip  from  the  head  of  a  boy  of  five.  In  a  quaint 
old  hand  was  written  on  the  card  the  words  :  "  My  boy 
Jamie's  hair."  On  the  other  card  were  pinned  three  or 
four  violets,  so  old  and  faded  that  they  looked  like 
paper. 

She  sat  in  a  chair  holding  the  book  in  her  lap,  and  her 
stiffening  fingers  held  those  cards  up  to  her  blind  eyes. 
Thus  they  found  her — a  card  in  either  hand  and  the  Holy 
Book  lying  open  in  her  lap  !  The  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren who  had  crowded  in  with  the  officer  saw  how  it  was, 
and  some  of  them  wept.  "  Old  Il^an  "  had  a  heart,  after 
all.  She  must  have  been  a  mother  once  and  had  a  mother's 
tender  feeling.  No  doubt  she  was  loved  and  happy  when 
she  severed  that  brown  curl  from  its  mates  and  wrote  on 
the  card :  "  My  boy  Jamie's  hair !" 

They  removed  the  precious  relics  very  tenderly,  and 
when  they  came  to  look  into  her  face  they  saw  that  it 
almost  wore  a  smile,  and  that  the  hard  lines  had  all  been 
rubbed  out  by  the  tenderness  which  flowed  into  her  heart 
as  Death  was  laying  his  hand  upon  her. 

Who  culled  those  violets  ?    Where  is  Jamie  ? 

Time  had  faded  the  violets  away  until  a  breath  would 
have  scattered  them — the  curly  lock  had  been  wept  ovf  r 


64 


WAITING   AND   WATCHING. 


until  its  brightness  was  gone — poor  Jamie,  passing  across 
the  mystic  river  which  flows  swiftly  and  deeply  between 
the  shore  of  life  and  the  gate  of  Heaven,  was  waiting  and 
watching. 

Truly,  the  greatest  mystery  of  life  is — ^life. 


KEEPING  THE  BOY  IN  NIGHTS. 


J['y^  lived  in  this  world  long  enough  to  know  that  the 
s  next  hardest  thing  to  curing  a  sore  heel  is  to  keep  a 
hoy  home  nights  after  he  has  passed  the  age  of  ten.  He 
then  hegins  to  helieve  that  it  is  his  solemn  duty  to  go  out 
and  hook  watermelons  and  other  portable  delicacies  of  the 
season,  sit  around  the  corner  stores  and  hear  all  that  is  to 
be  said  on  the  subject  of  dog  fights,  horse  races  and  shoul- 
der-hitting, and  to  keep  out  of  bed  as  long  as  he  can  see 
a  light  in  any  window. 

I  know  fathers  who  have  thrashed  their  sons,  bribed  and 
coaxed  and  resorted  to  all  sorts  of  stratagems  without 
doing  any  good,  and  I  therefore  take  this  opportunity 
of  presenting  to  parents  a  few  words  and  a  few  illustra- 
tions on  the  subject  of  keeping  the  boy  in  nights. 

This  illustration  represents 
a  very  effectual  method,  much 
practiced  in  ^Visconsin.  When 
a  father  takes  his  son  at  dark 
and  spikes  him  down  to  tlie 
kitchen  floor  he  knows  just 
where  that  boy  will  be  at  ten 
oV-lock,  and  at  eleven,  and  all  night  for  that  matter.  It 
is  a  great  improvement  on  the  old  method  of  mauling  the 
boy  with  the  shovel  after  he  has  got  into  the  house  through 
a  back  window,  slid  up  stairs  and  into  bed,  and  is  just 
entering  upon  the  outskirts  of  a  pleasant  dream. 

The  next  method  is  called  *'  The  Rochester "  method, 
E  65 


SIS    MLTilOD 


6(j 


EFi'ECTUAL    iMETHODS. 


having  been  first  adopted  in  that  city,  where  I  sold  two 
hundred  and  eighty  "rights"  in  three  days.  Fathers 
called  upon  me  with  tears  trickling  down  their  cheeks,  and 
they  shook  me  by  the  hand  and  exclaimed : 

"  Sir,  3'ou  have  saved 
^q\  our   sons    from    going- 

down  to  ruin,  and  we 
feel  that  we  can't  think 
too  much  of  you." 
Some  families  use  a 

Rochester  Method.  COrd     of    StOUC    tO    pilc 

on  the  boy,  but  half  as  much,  if  properly  })laccd,  is  war- 
ranted to  hold  him  to  the  spot  through  any  night  in  the 
year.  "N^Hiere  this  system  is  practiced  there  is  no  waking 
up  at  midnight  and  wondering  where  Charles  Henry  is, 
and  what  sort  of  company  he  is  in.  If  parents  wake  at  all 
it  is  to  smile  sweetly  as  they  remember  that  Charles  Henry 
is  right  there  in  that  house,  while  other  boys  are  on  the 
high  road  to  degradation.  In  a  prairie  country,  Avhere 
stone  cannot  well  be  obtained,  eight 
tons  of  old  scrap-iron  vnW  answer 
exerj  purpose. 

The  next  method  is  called  "  The 
New  Jersey  "  method,  where  I  had 
the  honor  to  introduce  it  in  the 
spring  of  1872.  Most  parents  in 
that  State  had  given  up  in  despair, 
but  they  gave  me  a  cordial  welcome, 
and  after  my  remedy  had  been  tried 
a  few  times  and  had  substantiated 
my  assertions,  old  men  and  middle-  ^'e^  Jersey  method. 
aged  men  and  widows  bore  down  upon  me  in  crowds. 
One  old  man  said  to  me,  with  quivering  chin : 

"  Sir,  they  should  bury  you  beside  George  "Washington 
when  you  die !" 


EFFECTUAL    METHODS. 


67 


A  widow  woman  pressed  forward,  grasped  my  hand  and 
exclaimed : 

"  Mister  Quad,  your  name  will  be  enscrolled  upon  the 
archives  of  fame !'' 

I  use  four-inch  scantling  for  posts,  and  brace  them  well. 
The  weight  should  never  be  less  than  five  thousand  pounds, 
and  may  consist  of  old  grindstones,  soft  brick,  or  whatever 
comes  handy.  The  method  is  covered  by  two  patents,  and 
the  public  arc  hereby  cautioned  against  an  infringement, 
brought  out  by  Stanley  .Waterloo,  of  the  St.  Louis  BcpuhU- 
can,  Avhose  trial  for  the  offense  is  now  in  progress. 

The  next  method  is  called  "  The   Louisville  "  method, 

having  been  first  prac- 
ticed in  that  city.  It 
<i=-5s^  ^  >f^^^^v^^C^  ^'"^^^^^C^       ^^  partly  the  invention 

^'.%  >^|  ?^5^;_nfe  ^^  ^^'^  Courier- Jovmal 
y^    ^^^^    ^Vp^  \  r^  ^  but  I  have  patents  for 

tour  miprovcments  on 
his  original  invention. 
Some  people  use  a  log 
Locis'VTLLB  Method.  chain  instead of  a  rope, 

but  a  two-inch  rope  works  better  in  the  pulley,  and  if  new 
will  hold  a  boy  of  sixteen  without  the  least  trouble.  The 
fathers  of  Louisville  had  no  faith  in  the  invention,  and  it 
was  several  days  before  I  could  secure  an  opportunity  to 
exhibit  its  marvelous  workings.  AVe  tried  it  on  a  "  Butcher 
Town"  boy  of  fifteen,  who  had  been  out  every  night  for 
four  years,  and  who  had  come  to  such  a  pass  that  his  fiither 
was  ashamed  to  attend  a  respectable  dog-fight  or  l)e  seen 
at  a  rafl^le,  and  it  worked  so  well  that  I  had  thirty-five 
orders  next  day.     One  father  said  to  me : 

"  You  are  a  greater  man  than  Thomas  Jefferson  ever 
dared  be!" 


68 


EFFECTUAL    METHODS. 


Another  said,  his  eyes  full  of  tears  and  his  voice  husky 
^\^th  emotion : 

"  I  never  thought  I  should  live  to  see  this  day !" 

The  last  thing,  as  I  got  into  the  omnibus,  a  woman  laid 
her  hand  on  my  arm  and  sobbed : 

"  I  never  dreamed  that  a  red-headed  man  had  such  a 
noble  soul !" 

Parties  desiring  rights  can  address  me  at  Detroit. 


EXECUTIN'  THE   LAW 


conrso,  where  three  or  four  hundred 
miners  were  gathered  together  at  a 
diggings,  as  in  the  early  days  of  Cali- 
)rnia  and  I^evada,  before  steam  and 
macliinery  had  taken  the  place  of 
picks  and  pans,  no  one's  life  would  have  been  safe  an  hour 
but  for  the  border-law^s  always  in  force. 

It  was  understood  that  murder  and  stealing  would  be 
punished  by  hanging,  and  this  knowledge  kept  most  of  the 
camps  in  a  safe  and  peaceful  state,  although  a  case  of  mur- 
der was  sure  to  come  sooner  or  later. 

One  night  at  Crazy  Horse  Diggings,  a  burly  big  fellow 
called  Tomaliawk,  was  arrested  after  he  had  stabbed  a 
sleeping  miner  to  the  heart  and  robbed  him  of  his  little 
store  of  dust.  The  murderer  made  a  hard  tight  to  escape, 
but  was  knocked  down  and  secured,  and  two  men  stood 
guard  over  him  the  remainder  of  the  night. 

Crazy  Horse  was  one  of  the  most  peaceful,  law-abiding 
diggings  in  the  State,  else  Tomahawk  would  have  been 
dangling  at  a  limb  within  half  an  hour  after  the  discovery 
of  his  crime.  We  never  lynched  an  offender,  but  gave  him 
a  fair  trial  and  then  executed  him  in  as  good  style  as  cir- 
cumstances would  permit.  Tomahawk  was  guilty  beyond 
a  doubt.  Three  or  four  men  had  seen  him  quit  the  shanty 
of  his  victim,  and  his  hands  and  clothing  were  stained  with 


70 


TOMAHAWK    IS    TKIED. 


blood,  l>ut  jet  we  all  felt  as  if  we  must  at  least  go  through 
with  the  form  of  a  trial. 

l^ext  morning  every  man  in  camp  knocked  off  work, 
and  about  nine  o'clock  we  formed  in  a  circle  on  the  grass, 
and  Tomahawk  was  led  in.  He  was  a  rough  'un  in  look  and 
nature,  and  we  expected  to  see  him  bluff  and  brave.  "When 
he  had  been  seated  on  a  barrel,  and  the  excitement  had 


subsided,  an  old  man  from  Vermont  who  was  called 
"Judge,"  and  who  had  acted  as  judge  in  several  previous 
cases,  arose  and  said : 

"  Prisoner,  you  ar'  charged  with  the  awful  crime  of 
murder !  None  of  us  hain't  any  doubt  of  your  guilt,  but 
Crazy  Horse  ar'  a  peaceful  diggin's,  and  we  ar'  goin'  to 
give  3'ou  a  fa'r  trial.  Do  you  want  any  one  to  speak  fur 
you,  or  do  you  want  to  make  any  remarks  ?"' 

"  See  here,  boys !"  said  Tomahawk  as  he  slowly  rose  up 


TOMAHAWK    IS    WILLIN'.  71 

and  looked  around  on  the  circle— "boys !  I  hain't  goin' 
to  lie  about  this  thing,  and  I  hain't  goin'  to  make  ye 
any  more  trouble  than  I  can  help!  I  am  guilty!  I 
wanted  to  leave  here,  because  I  wasn't  makin'  anythin', 
but  I  didn't  have  an  ounce  to  go  with.  I  didn't  mean  to 
kill  him.  I  was  after  his  dust,  but  he  woke  up,  grabbed 
me,  and  I  had  to  stab  him.  I  know  the  law,  and  I  shan't 
try  to  beg  oif !" 

The  circle  of  men  v\^crc  greatly  surprised  to  see  Toma- 
hawk so  broken  down,  and  while  all  felt  that  the  law  must 
be  enforced,  nearly  every  one  also  felt  considerable  sympa- 
thy for  the  prisoner.  There  was  silence  for  two  or  three 
minutes,  and  then  the  Judge  arose  and  replied : 

"Pris'ner  at  the  bar,  we  knowed  you  war'  guilty,  but 
we  wanted  to  do  this  thing  right  and  lawful.  We'd  bin 
willin'  to  give  you  a  squar'  trial,  but  as  you  have  owned  up 
I  s'pose  there's  notliing  left  but  to  hang  you  !" 

"  That's  what  I'm  willin'  you  should  do  !"  replied  Toma- 
hawk. "  If  you  didn't  execute  the  law  on  me  this  camp 
would  soon  be  so  rough  that  an  honest  man  couldn't  live 
liere.  I'm  ready  now,  'cept  that  I'd  like  to  have  some  one 
pray  for  me!" 

The  Judge  passed  around  the  circle,  looldng  for  some 
one  to  act  as  chaplain  and  spiritual  advdser,  but  there 
wasn't  a  man  in  camp  who  felt  equal  to  the  task. 

Tomahawk  understood  the  situation  after  awhile,  and  he 
>aid : 

'•  Oh !  well — it  won't  make  no  great  difference.  I've 
hill  purty  rough,  and  p'raps  prayin'  wouldn't  help  me  any, 
though  I  b'lieve  it's  tlie  rule  to  pray  with  a  man  afore  they 
hang  him.  If  any  of  ye  can  sing  a  religus  tune  it  will 
do  just  as  well." 

The  .Judge  passed  around  the  circle  again,  but  not  a  man 
could  be  found  who  felt  himself  competent  to  sing  a  hymn. 


72 


TOMAHAWK    IS    EXECUTED. 


Here  was  another  bad  situation,  and  we  were  all  feeling 
very  much  embarrassed,  when  a  miner  called  Old  Slabam 
sprang  up,  walked  over  to  Tomahawk  and  said : 

"  Here,  old  boy,  we  hain't  none  of  us  much  on  religun, 
and  we  can't  remember  any  hymns.  However,  there's  the 
song  of  "  Sawnee  River,"  and  if  that'll  do  I'll  sing  it  the 
best  I  can !" 

*'  As  I  said  before,  I  don't  want  to  be  too  pertick'ler,  nor 
make  too  much  trouble,"  replied  Tomahawk.  "  Seems  to 
me  thar  ought  to  be  sum  singin',  or  sunthin',  and  I  s'pose 
'  Sawnee  River '  will  do  as  well  as  an}i;hin';  you  may  go 
ahead!" 


We  moved  over  to  the  tree.  Tomahawk  mounted  a  bar- 
rel, the  rope  was  slipped  over  his  head,  and  then  Old 
Slabam   unbuttoned  his   vest,   took   a   long  breath,   and 

commenced : 

"  Way  down  upon  the  Sawnee  River, 
Far,  far  away  ; 
Thar's  whar  my  heart  is  turning  ever, 
Thar's  whar  the  oUl  folks  stay." 


HE    ACTED    ^VHITE.  73 

He  managed  to  get  through  with  the  song  after  a  fashion, 
and  then  Tomaliawk  said  : 

"  I'm  much  obleeged  to  yon,  SLibam.  You  hain't  much 
of  a  singer,  but  when  a  man  does  his  level  best  that's  all 
you  can  ask  of  him.  It's  a  good  song,  kinder  sad-like,  and 
it  Avar'  a  big  favor  to  sing  to  me.  Good-bye,  boys.  I've 
tried  to  act  like  a  man  in  this  'ere  aftair,  and  I  hope  you 
won't  be  too  hard  on  me  arter  I've  quit  kicking !  Well, 
here  I  go !" 

And  he  stepped  off  the  barrel,  hanging  himself. 

We  all  felt  a  little  sorry  as  we  turned  back  the  sods  and 
laid  him  away.     Tomahawk  had  acted  white. 


UNDER  THE  GAS -LAMP. 


fSO:\rETi:\IES  wonder  if,  when  I  urn  old  and  helpless, 
my  children  will  look  npon  me  as  a  shadow  cast  over 
their  happiness  ?  I  wonder  if  Fortune  will  not  play  some 
bad  trick  by  M'hich  I  may  be  thrown  upon  the  charity  of 
the  world,  and  be  treated  as  the  world's  charity  treats  other 
old  men  ?  I  wonder  if  youth  will  sneer  at  my  gray  locks 
and  trembling  limbs,  and  if  people  will  say  that  I  have  out- 
lived my  usefulness,  and  should  be  glad  of  a  place  in  the 
poorhouse  and  a  grave  in  Potter's  field  ? 

From  my  window  the  other  niglit  I  watched  an  old  man 
as  he  crept  up  the  street  and  stood  under  the  gas-lamp. 
He  was  gray  and  bent  and  feeble,  and  his  fluttering  rags 
were  the  leaves  of  a  book,  in  which  one  could  read  of  pov- 
erty, sorrow  and  woe.  He  looked  around  like  a  child,  as 
if  he  knew  not  which  way  to  turn.  Xo  home,  no  friends — 
no  one  to  care  whether  he  lived  or  died. 

By  and  by  he  sat  down  on  the  step  and  rested  his  head 
on  his  hand.  I  knew  what  he  was  thinking  of  His  face 
was  in  the  shadow,  but  I  knew  that  tears  were  falling  down 
those  wrinkled  cheeks,  and  that  his  old  heart  was  sad  and 
sore.  There  is  nothing  so  lonely  as  an  old  man  without 
home  or  friends.  He  felt  it.  He  saw  the  old  and  the 
young  go  by,  heard  the  laughter  of  happy  children,  and 
he  bent  his  gray  head  still  lower.  His  life  had  been  a 
dreary  struggle  with  poverty  and  grief,  and  those  who  had 
once  cared  for  him  had  slept  the  long  sleep  for  years. 
74 


IN    A    REFLKCTIVE    MOOD. 


75 


He  was  alone — old  and  weak,  and  the  world  was  pitiless. 
Xo  one  stopped  to  ask  if  he  was  cold  or  liungrj — no  one 
oared  whether  his  heart  was  lieavv  or  i^hul. 


TiTF    "WnnT.n    ■5\-AS    PlTTI.KSS. 

The  l)lcak  wind  wliistled  nroiiiKl  the  corner,  and  I  saw 
the  old  man  shiver.  lie  had  l»eiii  :i  cliild  once,  perhaps 
petted  and  loved,  and  his  mother  liad  read  to  liim  from  the 
good  book :  "  Honor  thy  father  and  mother,  that  thy  days 


76  rOUND    A    HOME    AT    LAST. 

may  be  long  in  tlie  land  wliicli  the  Lord  thy  God  giveth 
thee."  Had  liis  children  honored  him  ?  He  had  grown  to 
manhood  and  ])att]ed  with  the  world,  and  jtlanned  and 
hoped  and  pietnred  a  bright  future,  as  we  all  do.  Men 
might  have  bowed  to  his  eloquence  and  respected  his  tal- 
ents once,  and  in  his  sunshiny  hours  men  might  have  ilat- 
tered  him  and  made  him  believe  that  their  friendship  would 
never  die.  Old  age  had  crippled  him,  friendships  had 
flown,  an*?!  he  was  left  alone  to  l>ear  a  double  burden. 

He  was  waiting  for  death.  He  would  have  welcomed 
its  coming  long  ago,  but  the  grave  was  not  ready  to  receive 
him  until  liis  lieart  ha-d  felt  more  strongly  the  inhumanity 
of  man,  and  until  his  burdens  liad  quite  cruslied  him  down. 

I  went  to  call  him  in.  I  looked  up  and  down  the  street 
through  the  darkness,  but  he  had  vanished  like  a  shadow. 

Yesterday,  as  I  looked  into  the  morgue  I  saw  him  rest- 
ing on  the  cold  stone  slab,  hands  folded  across  his  breast 
and  a  look  of  relief  on  his  pale  face.  They  had  found  him 
floatino;  in  the  river,  and  hx  had  found  a  home  at  last. 


THE  AWFUL  FATE  OF  THE  MAN  WHO 
A  ADVERTISED. 


I'  is  name  was  Ilippoflam.     His  uncle  left 

i7|\\^  him  some  money,  and  lie  started  in  the 

'  -^ '  grocery  and  provision  business.     The 

canvassers  came  around  there  from  the 

^-  daily  papers  and  said  he  had  the  best 

J  •       location  in  town,  the  nicest  stock,  and 

all  that,  and  then  went  hang  at  him  for  an 

^:        advertisement.     He  had  read  in  the  papers 

that  John  Jacob  Astor,  A.  T.  Stewart,  John 

Smith,  Daniel  Pratt,  and  hosts  of  others,  had  once  been 

poor,  and  had  made  their  start  by  advertising.    He  believed 


'  It  NE^ER  Did  Pay  ' 

It  all,  dough-head  that  he  was,  and   he  advertised   four 
squares  in  the  Torchlujlif,  six  squares  in  the  Badger,  half  a 


78  AVAS    ELECTED    xMAYOK. 

column  in  the  3Ioonshme,  and  slipped  a  five-dollar  bill  to 
the  reporters  and  told  'em  to  saj  a  good  word  for  him. 

The  reporters  did,  and  when  people  saw  from  the  adver- 
tisements that  Hippoflam  had  started  in  business  Avith  a 
fresh,  large  stock,  they  rushed  for  his  store.  Then  his 
troubles  commenced.  He  had  to  hire  an  extra  clerk  and  a 
cash-boy.  He  couldn't  find  time  to  sit  down  on  a  candle- 
box,  thrust  his  feet  upon  the  stove,  and  gossip  about  poli- 
tics and  the  Louisiana  question.  Every  day  or  two  he  had 
to  write  or  telegraph  for  new  goods,  ordering  more  coifee, 
tea,  sugar  or  spices,  and  when  the  goods  came  he  had  to 
open  them  and  retail  them  out. 

As  day  after  day  went  liy  people  began  to  notice  that 
Hippoflam  was  growing  thin  and  pale.  He  looked  care- 
Avorn  and  harassed,  as  if  driven.  He  kept  advertising, 
and  people  kept  patronizing  him.  Other  grocers  could  get 
time  to  go  ofi:'  on  excursions,  and  to  sit  down  for  hours  at 
a  time  and  play  checkers  and  dominos,  but  Hippoflam 
could  not  get  an  hour  to  himself  except  time  to  sleep. 
By  and  by  he  had  to  open  an  account  with  yet  another 
bank,  get  more  clerks  and  cash-boys ;  and  it  came  alx>ut 
that  he  kept  a  carriage,  built  a  fine  house,  wore  broadclotli, 
and  was  elected  mayor  of  the  town. 

Of  course,  a  man  couldn't  go  on  in  this  way  many  years 
and  not  break  down  his  health,  and  the  day  came  at  last 
when  Hippoflam  had  the  dyspepsia,  the  jaundice,  heart 
disease,  rheumatism,  and  several  other  complaints.  The 
shadow  of  death  hung  over  him,  while  the  grocers  who 
hadn't  advertised  at  all  grew  fat  and  portly  and  had  double 
chins  on  'em.  They  had  time  to  go  fishing,  were  never 
tired  out  looking  over  their  bank  accounts,  and  it  wasn't 
once  a  year  that  they  had  to  order  an}i:hing  more  than  a 
box  of  herrings. 

Broken  down  in  health,  feeling  mad  at  all  the  world,  and 


SPORTIVETA'    INCLINED. 


79 


finding  himself  a  victim  of  the  newspapers,  Ilippoflam  one 
day  drew  all  his  money  out  of  tlie  bunk,  passL'd  it  over  to 
a  hinatic  asylum,  set  his  store  on  tire,  blew  up  his  mansion 
with  a  keg'  of  powder,  and  then  hanged  himself  to  a  peach 


Treed  by  the  Newspapers. 

tree  in  the  back  yard.     The  coroner  cut  him  down,  the 
jury  sat  on  him,  and  the  verdict  was : 

"Advertising  killed  him,  and  we  hereby  warn  all  busi- 
ness men  to  let  his  flite  be  an  awful  example  against  pat- 
ronizing newspapers." 


HE  GOES  WEST. 


'  jKHE  "West  is  a  glorious  country.  It  also  covers  consid- 
1^  erable  ground.  It  is  the  home  of  the  hard-listed  son 
of  toil,  the  tax-payer,  and  the  independent  American 
elector.  Her  broad,  smiling  prairies — her  inviting  wilder- 
nesses— her  towering  mountains  and  sun-lit  valleys — her 
three-card  niontc  men,  slashing  miners,  grizzly  bears,  smil- 
ing landlords  and  four-mule  teams — who  does  not  love  the 
great  West ! 

I  went  west     I  dropped  off  the  train  at  Fort  Scott  to 
look  around  a  little  and  perhaps  invest  in  stocks.    The  citi- 


In  the  Stocks. 


zens  came  at  me  with  stocks  as  soon  as  I  got  off  the  step. 
They  seemed  to  take  me  for  a  banker,  and  they  shoved 
stocks  at  me  until  my  head  swam. 

80 


DIVIDED    BY   SIXTEEN.  81 

When  they  found  that  I  didn't  want  any  stocks  they  ten- 
dered me  the  hospitalities  of  the  town — at  $6  per  day.  I 
was  astonished  at  the  way  they  charged  for  things  at  Fort 
Scott.  It  was  two  shilUngs  an  incli  to  ride  in  the  omni- 
bus for  instance.  I  couldn't  be  convinced  of  the  fact  until 
the  omnibus  driver  hauled  out  a  revolver  and  said  he  hadn't 
time  to  count  more  than  four. 

In  the  afternoon  one  of  the  aldermen  wanted  me  to  go 
over  and  look  at  some  city  lots,  with  a  view  to  purchase. 
I  o:ladlv  consented,  havinir  in  mind  the  establishment  of  a 


AsTOR  WoLLD  Have  Done  It. 

soap  factory  which  should  make  the  town  uninhabitable, 
but  I  didn't  strike  a  bargain.  His  lots  didn't  seem  to  be 
well  drained.  He  remarked  that  I  didn't  have  that  specu- 
lative turn  of  nature  which  made  Astor  what  he  is,  and  I 
got  back  to  the  depot  and  paid  a  dollar  an  hour  for  the 
privilege  of  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  half-inch  fence-board 
until  the  train  came  along. 

I  also  visited  Denver.  Denver  is  a  very  enterprising 
town.  Sixteen  diiferent  hackmen  seized  me  as  soon  as  I 
got  oft"  the  cars,  and  I  was  di\dded  into  sixteen  pieces  and 
distributed  among  the  hotels  and  boarding  houses.  I  was 
a  whole  day  getting  together  again,  and  I  have  never 
felt  like  my  old  self  since. 

The  landlords  of  Denver  are  very  nice  men,  and  they 


82 


SUDDEN    LOSS    OF    APPETITE. 


don't  let  the  residents  of  the  country  around  there  inter- 
rupt a  stranger's  harmony  of  mind.  I  happened  incident- 
ally, at  the  supper  table,  to  remark  that  the  earth  moved 
around  tlie  sun,  when  a  native  sprang  up  and  yelled  at  me  : 
"  Ycr  can't  choke  that  down  this  yer  traveler — git  up 
and  run  or  fi.<>-lit!" 


Astronomical. 

"  My  dear  sir "  I  began,  but  he  commenced  to  prance 

around  and  draw  out  dirks  and  daggers  and  bone-handled 
knives,  and  he  was  making  for  me  when  the  landlord 
rested  his  shot-gun  on  my  head  and 
dropped  him.  I  believe  the  fellow  lived 
ten  or  fifteen  seconds — -just  long  enough 
to  murmur :  "  What  will  father  do 
now!"  and  then  he  fell  asleep  in  death. 
I  started  out  to  return  my  heartfelt 
thanks  to  the  'landlord,  but  he  inter- 
rupted me  by  replying : 

"  Oh !  it's  of  no  consequence  at  all — 
-^^"  I've  been  hankerin'  to  shoot  somebody 
_^  ^^^"^  for  more'n  a  week !" 

Letters  from  Home.  rpj^^  ^^^^^  moming  I  WCUt  tO  the  pOSt- 

office  and  got  my  letters  from  home.     They  have  a  very 


ENTHUSIASTIC    llECEPTION. 


83 


Didn't  See  Much  of  Cheyenne. 


accommodating  postmaster  there ;  he  kept  handing  out  let- 
ters to  me  until  my  arm  ached.  I  hadn't  perused  over 
forty  of  them  before  I  decided  that  Denver  wasn't  the  place 
for  me  to  settle  in.  It  seemed  to  have  an  unhealthy  look. 
Cliovcnne  is  a  thriving  town.  I  thought  so  as  soon  as 
-*  -'■  '^■■•-^ — /"^^  i!  ^;^^L.,a^  the  proprietor  of  an  eating 
'/'///,  stand  charged  me  $2  for  a  cup 
//^  of  coffee,  and  I  didn't  get  rid 
',■>  .J/  of  the  idea  until  several  days 
///  after  leaving  the*  town.  I 
/  ,  didn't  see  much  of  Cheyenne. 
j^-^^  A  number  of  citizens  came 
'■°^^"  down  the  street  to  meet  me, 
and  I  hadn't  commenced  to 
shake  hands  when  they  hustled  me  along  without  regard 
to  my  health,  and  deposited  me  in  a  room  which  had  but 
onfe  window,  and  that  was  so  covered  up  with  iron  bars  as 
to  prevent  my  securing 
anything  like  a  general 
vie\v  of  the  town. 

They  told  me  next  day 
that  I  had  better  go  fur- 
ther west — that  the  cli- 
mate around  there  might  . 
kill  me  if  I  remained,  and 
I  took  their  advice. 

Laramie  is  also  a  very 
nice    town.     It's  a  little 
wild,  and  its  people  rather  v 
demonstrative     in     their  \  j 
enthusiasm,   but  all  this  <  - 
will  be  corrected  in  lessV^ 
than  a  thousand  years.    I 
hadn't  been  in  the  town  ^^  ™=  hotel  balcony. 

half  a  day  before  a  crowd  assembled  and  called  me  out  on 


84 


VOTING    IN    THE    AFFIllMATIYE. 


the  hotel  balcony  to  make  a  speech.  I  responded,  and  it 
is  not  for  me  to  say  whether  it  was  a  grand  oratorical  effort 
or  a  dead  failure,  although  I  have  my  private  opinion. 
The  speech  alluded  very  briefly  to  the  landing  of  the  Pil- 
grim Fathers,  merely  touched  on  the  glorious  services  of 
Washington,  and  no  reference  whatever  was  made  to 
astronomy  or  botany.  Just  at  the  close  of  the  speech  some 
one  inquired  if  I  could  get  out  of  Laramie  in  twenty  min- 
utes, and  upon  my  replying  in  the 
aflirmative  the  enthusiastic  crowd  dis- 
-■^^^  persed. 

\7~~^  The  citizens  of  Wliite  Horse  Station 

are  very  obliging  people.     I  happened 
Could.  to  fall  agaiust  ouc  of  them  as  I  wan- 

dered over  the  town,  and  after  he  had  snapped  four  caps  on 
his  revolver,  in  efforts  to  shoot  me,  he  called  to  a  man 
across  the  street : 

"  Here,  Jack,  please  shoot  this  coyote  for  me !" 
"With  pleasure!"  was  the  reply,  and  the  fellow  opened 
fire  and  kept  it  up  until  I  got  tired  and  gave  another  citizen 
seventy  cents  to  go  over  and  chop  his  head  off  with  an 
Indian  hatchet. 


THE  DEEP,  GRIM  SILENCE  OF  THE  FOURTH  STORY. 


one  ever  comes  up  into  the  rooms  of  tlie 
top  story  of  a  four-story  building  set 
apart  for  the  staff  of  a  daily  paper. 
This  is  why  every  article  reads  so  evenly 
and  smoothly.  All  you've  got  to  do  if 
you  belong  to  the  staiF  is  to  climb  up 
there,  sit  all  day  long  in  the  deep,  grim 
y  silence,  and  when  midnight  comes  you 
can  lower  yourself  down  stairs  with  a 
consciousness  that  every  article  will 
read  like  clock-work. 

Yesterday  morning  I  commenced  an 
article  entitled  "  The  Unseen  Influences 
of  the  Spirit  World,"  and  had  got  as  far  as  to  say  that 
"  Although  we  hear  no  voices,  there  is  some  subtle  influ- 
ence pervading  the "  when  a  man  came  up  with  a 

demand  for  a  correction  of  an  article  charging  him  with 
bigamy.  You  have  to  keep  right  on  with  an  idea  when 
you  get  hold  of  it,  so  I  run  him  in  : 

"  Pervading  the  air  about  you  all  the  time  Peter  Smith 
has  called  at  this  office  to  say  that  the  unheard  voices  com- 
ing from  the  dead  often  swerve  us  from  he  isn't  the  man 
mentioned  as  having  two  wives  the  path  marked  out  by  the 

obstinate 

(Here  another  man  came  in  and  wanted  a  notice  of  his 
new  building.) 

85 


86  EDITORIAL    MEDLEY. 

— spirits  which  refuse  to  yield  to  that  new  block  on  Michi- 
gan avenue,  although  Smith  is  directly  charged  by  the 
police  with  a  marble  front  and  120  feet  deep.  At  night, 
after  a  day's  toil,  who  does  not  love  to  sit  down  and  let  his 
mind  run  to  the  mysterious  shadowy  basement  under  it 
and  stone  caps  above  the  windows  we  take  great  pleasure 
in  setting  Smith  right  before  his  fellow-citizens,  and " 

(Here  a  man  came  up  and  wanted  to  look  at  a  State  map, 
although  he  could  have  found  one  down  stairs.) 
— "  Certainly,  sir,  look  at  all  the  State  maps  you  want  to 
and  call  back  the  spirit  of  some  dear  friend  gone  before  us 
will  ascertain  the  name  of  the  policeman  who  wrongfully 
accused  Mr.  Smith  of  having  a  frontage  on  Michigan  ave- 
nue which  helps  the  look  of  that  street  very  much,  and 
you  will  find  the  county  of  Hillsdale  further  to  the  left  of 
that  land  from  which  no  one  has  ever  returned  to  tell  us 
whether  our  friends  are  sad  or  joyful " 

(Here  a  boy  came  up  and  wanted  to  sell  us  some  tonka 
beans  to  keep  moths  off.) 

"  Thank  ye,  bub,  don't  want  any  tonka  beans  if  you  ever 
want  to  look  at  any  more  of  our  maps  come  right  up  with 
a  Mansard  roof  to  crown  all,  and  Smith  is  now  set  right 
before  the  public  and  his  friends  gcTierally,  wlio  have  thus 
improved  the  town  and  commune  with  them  as  to  whether 
a  moment  of  sadness  does  not  occasionally  steal  over  them 
as  they  think  of  the  fond  friends  left  behind  come  up  again 
and  I'll  talk  with  you  about  the  tonka  beans  and  every 
patriotic  citizen  ought  to  keep  a  State  map  in  his  new 
block  on  Michigan  avenue  Smith  states  that  one  of  his 
wives  deserted  him  in  Illinois  and  the  other " 

(Here  a  sul)scriber  came  in  and  wanted  to  know  why  no 
paper  was  issued  the  day  after  Thanksgiving.) 

"  Because  it  was  a  dav  set  apart  for  one  hundred  and 
forty-four  windows  in  the  entire  block  with  tonka  1)eans 


S  MORE    0     THE    SAME    SORT. 


87 


enameled  on  State  maps  to  mourn  their  early  departure 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  I  don't  want 
you  to  bother  me  any  more  Mr.  Smith  about  your  wives 
and  come  bub  get  right  down  stairs  now  with  your  beans 
to  that  spirit  land  where  all  is  joy  and  peace  the  compositors 
wanted  a  holiday  and  it's  against  the  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity to " 

(Here  a  boy  came  up  with  a  basket  of  apples.) 
— "  Forever  more  can't  eat  apples  owing  to  my  teeth  and 
Smith  is  now  made  good  for  any  beans  which  any  State 
map  connected  A^-ith  this  office  has  nothing  but  joy  and 
peace  to  mark  the  never  ending  time  I'll  break  your  neck 
if  you  say  apples  to  me  again  and  you  see  that  the  new 
block  spoken  of  has  no  bigamy  to  prove  the  moths  don't 
apple  the  tonka  bean«  sold  in  Hillsdale  county. 


HAVING  THE  TOOTHACHE. 


J  HAVE  seen  men  who  would  jump  up  and 
down  and  call  everybody  liars,  and  abuse 
tbeir  wives,  and  swear  an  oatli  as  large  as  an 
old  fashioned  out-door  oven,  simply  because 
they  had  the  toothache.  Watkins  is  one  of 
those  sort  of  men.  He  just  gets  comfort- 
ably around  the  stove,  ^^'ith  a  paper  in  one  hand  and  a  pan 
of  apples  in  the  other,  when  whoop  !  she  goes  !  It  seems 
as  if  some  one  had  fired  a  bullet  into  his  jaw,  and  he  leaps 
up  and  down  and  kicks  out  behind  and  grabs  at  his  face. 
" ITow, Watkins,  do  be  patient!"  says  his  wife,  as  she 
runs  after  cotton  and  camphor. 

He  holds  his  mouth  open  and  she  puts  the  cotton  in, 
having  soaked  it  with  camphor.  He  gets  a  swallow  of  the 
liquid,  which  goes  down  the  wrong  pipe,  and  he  gives  a 
yell  and  a  snort,  and  his  eyes  stick  out  like  the  wallet  of  a 
back-pay  Congressman. 

"  Oh !  now,  Watkins,  don't  be  so 
awful  fractious  !"  she  says  in  a  sooth- 
ing voice,  looking  on  the  floor  for  the 
cotton. 

"Fractious!"  he  screams:  "you 
couldn't  bear  it  a  second !  It  would 
kill  fourteen  women  in  a  minute  !' 


It  gets  a  little  easier  as  he  holds  hi 
ost 
88 


.,  '\\\' 


Almost  Smiles. 


face  to  the  stove,  and  he  almost  smiles  as  he  remembers  the 


I 


AN    INVOLUNTARY    ACROBAT.  89 

pain  of  a  moment  ago.  He  is  convinced  that  some  men 
would  have  torn  the  house  right  down,  and  he  flatters  him- 
self that  he  is  a  very  patient  man.  Mrs.  Watkins  takes  up 
her  knitting  again  and  proceeds  to  narrow  the  heel,  when 
Watkins  gives  another  sudden  yell,    "Oh!  hoky !  oh!  my 

stars!"  he  shouts,  as  he  dances  around  on  one  foot,  with 

ft 

his  teeth  hard  shut. 

"  Samuel,  you  should  not  take  an  oath,"  says  the  wife  in 
a  reproving  tone.  "  Remember  that  the  wicked  shall  not 
live  out  half '' 

"Live  the  old  Satan !"  he  roars,  striking  his  ear  against 
the  hot  stove.  "  Get  a  mustard  plaster  and  a  bag  of  ashes, 
and  some  peppermint  and  some  laudanum!" 

The  patient  Mrs.  Watkins  says  that  there  isn't  any  mus- 
tard, or  peppermint,  or  laudanum,  in  the  house,  and  that 
she  doesn't  believe  a  bag  of  ashes  would  do  any  good. 

"  Don't  you  remember  my  brother  William  ?"  she  asks. 
"  In  the  fall  of  '57  he  had  just  such  a  time  as  this,  and 
nothing  would " 

"  Shut  up  !"  roars  Watkins,  trying  to  stuif  some  cotton 
into  the  hole  in  the  tooth.  "  WTiat  do  I  care  about  your 
brother  Bill !" 

The  smarting  of  his  ear  eases  the  tooth  a  little,  and 
Watkins  begins  to  hope  that  it  is  all  over.  The  pain  dies 
away  and  a  broad  smile  covers  his  face.  Some  men  would 
have  routed  out  the  whole  neighborhood,  and  had  the  fire- 
alarm  sounded,  but  he  had  been  very  patient. 

"  Samuel,  did  3'ou  see  that  Johnny  put  the  white  cow  in 
the  east  lot,  and  the  black  ox  in  the " 

"Black  devils!"  whoops  Watkins,  as  the  nerve  jumps 
again.  "  Hang  the  black  cow,  and  the  white  lot,  and  the 
east  ox,  and  you  too !  Oh,  my  tooth  !  I  shan't  live  three 
minutes  !" 

"  Oh!  now  Samuel!"  entreats  Mrs.  Watkins,  trying  to 
pat  him  on  the  back. 


90  BOOTS    IN    THE    REAR. 

"  Oh,  hang  it !  cuss  it !  daug !"  he  yells  back.  "  I'm  an 
old  sinner  if  I  don't  murder  somebody!" 

About  every  third  night,  AVatkins  has  one  of  these  spells. 
He  used  to  send  for  me  until,  one  night,  I  suggested  that 
he  should  go  to  the  dentist,  and  that  after  the  dentist  had 
cut  around  the  tooth,  and  jabbed  a  wire  against  the  nerve, 
and  let  his  forceps  slip  off  once  or  twice,  he  would  worry 
the  old  stub  out  or  break  it  oif.  My  little  speech  went 
right  to  his  heart,  and  as  I  slid  out  doors  both  his  boots 
struck  the  front  gate. 


SOME  INDIAN  RELICS. 


<2^ 

jTL  WAS  over  to  see  Cloyster's  collection  of  Indian  rel- 
^  ics  the  other  day.  Cloyster  takes  a  deep  interest  in 
Indians  and  relics  of  Indians,  and  I  don't  blame  him,  as 
his  grandmother  was  scalped,  liis  grandfather  burned  at  the 
stake,  and  his  father  was  an  Indian  agent  on  the  plains, 
and  was  cooked  for  dinner  by  a  Blackfoot  chief  named 
Ilezekiah  McFadden,  or  some  such  thing. 

Cloyster  has  been  years  gathering  his  collection,  and  he 
knows  that  they  are  genuine.  I  stood  before  a  relic  of 
Pontiac,  and  I  felt  awed  and  solemn.  The  hat  which  the 
great  chieftain  w^ore  in  battle,  to  fires, 
Fourth  of  July  parades,  and  on  all 
important  occasions,  w^as  before  me, 
looking  just  as  fresh  and  balmy  as  the 
day  when  he  carefully  placed  it  on  a 
jrsT  AS  fresh7~  log  and  spit  on  his  hands  for  a  wrestle 
with  death.  Poor  Ponty !  Death  cut  him  off  just  as  he 
had  got  to  be  somebody,  and  they  buried  him  so  recklessly 
that  his  grave  cannot  now  be  found. 

And  there  was  a  relic  of  old  Okemos, 
after  whom  a  Michigan  town  has  l)een 
named.     It  is  the  only  relic 
of  him  in  any  one's  posses- 
sion, and  Cloyster  would  not  . 
part  with  it  for  money.     As  \  __ 

I  took  it  in  my  hands  and  westward  hoe! 

surveyed  it  more  closely,  I  seemed  to  stand  in  the  presence 
91 


92  NEVER    PARTED    HIS    HAIR    BEHIND. 

of  the  departed  dead.  The  sad,  solemn  face  of  the  dead 
chieftain  rose  before  me,  and  I  could  almost  imagine  I  saw 
him  with  that  relic  on  his  shoulder,  making  his  way  to  a 
corn-field,  or  sitting  on  a  log  to  kill  time.  He  was  a  good 
man,  and  we  may  not  look  upon  his  like  again.  He  never 
amounted  to  much  on  orthography  and  grammar,  hut  he 
didn't  have  any  less  respect  from  those  who  knew  him 
well.  There  wasn't  money  enough  in  the  world  to  have 
hired  Mr.  Okemos  to  part  his  hair  behind,  or  to  wear  lav- 
ender pants. 

In  the  next  case  was  a  relic  of  Wliite  Horse,  a  noted 
Indian  chief,  who  used  to  have  his  headquarters  in  the 
Saginaw  Valley,  and  who  died  owing  more  borrowed 
money  than  his  heirs  can  ever  pay.  It  gave  me  many  sol- 
emn thoughts  as  I  stood  before  that  last  memento  of  one 

whose  hideous  war-whoops 
*^  once  carried  dread  and  dis- 
may to  a  hundred  bosoms. 

Axed  Out  by  Death.  j^^  ^^^^  ^  ^^.^^^  fighter,  but 

it  can't  be  remembered  now  that  he  ever  bit  or  gouged  or 
pulled  hair.  His  parents  could  never  induce  him  to  attend 
Thursday  evening  prayer-meetings  or  forenoon  Sunday 
schools  when  a  boy,  and  he  is  charged  with  having  forged 
mortgages  and  passed  wild-cat  bills.  However,  he  is  dead 
now,  and  all  right-hearted  people  will  drop  a  tear  or  two 
as  they  look  upon  Cloyster's  relic. 

A  little  further  down  was  a  sad  memento  of  the  celebra- 
ted Chippewa  chief  To-ge-na,  or  Laugh- 
ing Thunder.  Poor  man  !  He's  dead, 
too  !  He  used  to  have  his  headquarters 
in  Wisconsin,  and  he  was  a  king-bee  in  J|/ 
his  day.  As  the  noonday  sun  streamed 
in  at  the  A%indow  and  fell  upon  the  old  double  x-tra. 

relic  it  seemed  to  illuminate  it  and  bring  out  all  its  sad  and 


THE   SOFT,    SAD    WIND.  '  93 

tender  points  and  memories.  I  gave  myself  up  to  revery, 
and  for  a  moment  I  seemed  to  see  Laughing  Thunder 
meandering  through  the  virgin  forests  again,  and  I  fiyicied 
I  could  hear  his  voice  above  the  roar  of  battle,  crying  out : 
''  Don't  give  up  the  ship  !" 

He  is  spoken  of  by  those  who  knew  him,  as  a  perfect 
gentleman,  a  tender  husband  and  a  loving  father.  He  had 
some  few  bad  habits,  such  as  being  out  late  nights,  sliaking 
dice  to  see  who  should  pay  for  the  drinks,  and  the  like  of 
that,  but  what  can  you  expect  of  an  Indian  who  never  went 
to  school  or  knew  anything  about  mineralogy,  anatomy  or 
botany  until  he  was  a  man  grown  ? 

One  of  the  other  relics,  a  jug,  was  a  relic  of  Gray  Eagle, 
a  noted  Sioux  chief,  who  used  to  have  a  ranch  out  in  Ari- 
zona. I  believe  he  waited  on  the  table  when  Cloyster's 
father  was  served  up,  but  as  Cloyster  can  never  mention 
that  little  incident  without  being  affected  to  tears,  I  haven't 
secured  all  the  little  particulars.  He  just  lumped  the  story 
off  to  me  whole,  the  same  way  they  baked  his  father. 

The  soft  wind  sighed  sadly  around  the 
window  as  I  gazed  at  the  interesting 
relic,  and  the  sound  came  to  my  ears 
like  the  voices  of  Indian  children  wail- 
ing over  the  loss  of  their  great  chieftain. 
Gray  Eagle  is  no  more !  He  has  been 
^goedT"  "  no  more  "  for  these  long,  long  years 

past.  His  ashes  have  been  scattered,  a  Denver  butcher 
chops  meat  with  his  tomahawk,  and  Mrs.  Gray  Eagle  mar- 
ried a  fellow  who  didn't  even  know  how  to  make  cider. 

Cloyster  had  other  relics,  but  I  didn't  stay  to  look  them 
over.  The  faces  of  the  departed  dead  kept  rising  before 
me,  and  every  moan  of  the  wind  was  an  accusing  voice. 
The  big,  two-story  Indians  are  falling  by  the  wayside  every 
day,  and  it  won't  be  long  before  the  red  man  and  his  red 


94  A    PROSPECTIVE    LUNCH. 

squaw  and  children  a\411  live  only  in  tlie  memory  of  tlie 
white  man.  One  by  one  they  are  being  checked  for  the 
happy  hunting  grounds.  Every  day  or  two  the  sighing 
wind  bears  another  spirit  away.  The  salt  pork  and  light- 
ning-fluid served  out  by  the  Government  agents  is  knock- 
ing the  Big  Bears  and  the  Rolling  Thunders  and  the 
Howling  Panthers  into  the  middle  of  next  week,  and  the 
day  must  come  when  the  last  remnant  of  a  once  powerful 
race  will  furnish  an  afternoon  lunch  for  some  enterprising 
wolf. 
It  makes  one  feel  bad. 


ON  THE  CORONER'S  JURY. 


ST  is  a  solemn  business  to  sit  on  tlie  coroner's  jury 
and  be  one  of  six  men  selected  to  "  thoroughly  inves- 
tig'ate  and  truly  find  "  how  the  deceased  came  to  his  death. 
I  was  never  on  such  a  jury,  but  I've  hung  around  in  a 
reportorial  capacity  and  waited  for  the  verdict,  and  been 
awed  and  overpowered  by  the  majestic  look  of  the  coroner 
himself,  as  he  rapped  on  his  old  pine  table  and  remarked : 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  remove  your  hats  and  be 
sworn." 

Modern  coroners  are  selected  for  their  profundity  of 
thought,  astuteness,  philosophy  and  fitness.  Most  of  them 
would  be  governors,  major-generals,  or  in  the  President's 
cabinet,  if  they  were  not  filling  the  position  of  coroner. 

The  average  coroner  has  his  ofiice  around  the  corner  and 
up  three  pairs  of  stairs,  or  in  the  back  end  of  a  carpenter 
sliop.  This  location  is  not  selected  with  a  view  to  secure 
cheap  rent,  but  the  coroner  must  have  time  to  read  up  on 
history,  astronomy,  gravitation,  natural  philosophy,  and 
so  forth,  and  he  must  be  where  the  public  can't  disturb 
him. 

Every  coroner's  ofiice  should  be  furnished  with  a  map  of 
the  Sandwich  Islands,  two  chairs  without  backs,  a  stove 
with  one  leg  missing,  a  dime  novel,  an  old  day-book,  a  saw 
horse,  and  as  many  old  barrels  as  his  pecuniary  standing 
will  justify.  The  windows  should  never  be  washed,  and 
95 


96 


KEQUIRES    MEN    OF    STANDINGI. 


if  any  one  attempts  to  slick  up  tlie  room  he  should  be  shot 
dead  and  buried  in  a  marsh. 

When  a  citizen  falls  dead  on  the  street  A\-ith  heart  dis- 
ease it  is  the  duty  of  the  coroner  to  proceed  to  the  spot 
where  the  body  lies,  hand  some  one  his  hat,  swell  out  his 
chest,  and  call  out : 

"  If  them  there  boys  don't  stand  back  and  git  away  I'll 
send  'em  to  the  station!" 

The  next  step  is  to  empanel  a  jury.  In  olden  times  cor- 
oners used  to  take  any  body  and  every  body  from  the 
crowd  around  the  victim,  but  the 
modern  coroner  looks  for  men  of 
standing,  and  he  halts  not  until 
he  finds  them — men  who  are 
standing  on  the  corners  most  of 
their  time,  or  standing  in  front 
of  bars.  Wlien  the  roll  has  been 
called  the  coroner  swears  the  jury 
to  investigate  the  cause  of  death, 
even  if  it  requires  years  of  deep- 
est study,  and  they  gather  around 
the  body,  notice  whether  the  ears 
are  large  or  small;  whether  the 
boots  are  sewed  or  pegged ;  how 
many  buttons  there  are  on  the  tail 
of  the  coat;  find  out  whether  he 
was  married  or  single,  and  the 
inquest  is  then  adjourned  for  one 
day  to  give  them  time  to  wrestle 

"If  Them  There  Boys."  with  the  problem. 

Xext  day  at  an  appointed  hour  the  jurymen  assemble, 
the  coroner  takes  a  seat  on  a  nail-keg,  behind  the  old  taljle, 
raps  on  the  floor  with  the  coal  stove  shaker,  and  asks  in  a 
terrible  voice : 


CASH    IN    THIRTY   DAYS. 


97 


"  Gentlemen   of    the  jury,   have    you   agreed   upon   a 
verdict?" 

"  "We  have,"  answers  the  foreman. 
"What  is  it?" 

"We  find  that  the  deceased  came  to  his 
death  by  falUng  into  the  canal !" 

The  coroner  records  the  verdict,  the  jury 
Foreman.  covcr  tlicir  hcads,  and  the  reporters  dare  to 
come  a  little  nearer.  Then  the  coroner  rises  up,  waves 
his  hand  and  says  : 

"  Boys,  there's  a  dollar  coming  to  each  of  you,  and  some 
Hme  next  month  I'll  hand  it  in." 
And  that  ends  that  case. 


THAT  SMITH  BOY. 


neigliborliood  used  to  be  a  quiet 
neighborhood.  The  street  is  paved 
with  wood,  is  far  from  business,  and 
hydrants,  tree-boxes  and  hitching- 
posts  used  to  have  a  clean,  prim 
reserved  look.  The  midnight  cat 
'^i^^^  avoided  us,  book  agents  and  lightning- 
-^Jp-  rod  peddlers  passed  us  by,  and  we  lived 
as  quietly  and  solemnly  as  if  every  man's  next  door  neigh- 
bor was  dead. 

That  Smith  boy  came  into  the  neighborhood,  and  now 
all  is  changed.  His  parents  died,  and  his  aunt  took  him 
in  from  motives  of  love  and  sympathy.  He  had  scarcely 
been  taken  in  when  he  proceeded  to  take  the  rest  of  us  in. 
The  fiendish  genius  of  that  boy  is  appalling.  He  was 
brought  over  from  "  Plug-town  "  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  and  before  sundown  he  had  "  licked "  no  less 
than  seven  of  our  boys,  unhinged  three  gates,  and  sounded 
a  false  alarm  of  fire. 

A  few  of  us  held  a  mass  convention  that  evening  and 
decided  to  coerce  that  Smith  boy— peaceably  if  we  could, 
forcibly  if  we  had  to.  I  was  appointed  a  committee  of  one 
to  wait  upon  him  and  give  him  to  understand  that  he  must 
lay  aside  his  "  Plug-town  "  peculiarities  if  he  would  remain 
in  our  midst. 

98 


CAN  TAKE  CARE  OF  HIMSELF.  99 

At  (layliglit  next  morning  we  were  aroused  by  the  loud 
reports  of  a  musket,  :md  veils  of  "  'liab.  for  our  side  !"  and 
before  breakfast  was  finished  that  Smith  boy  had  painted 
several  lamp-posts  with  red,  white  and  blue,  making  a  bar- 
ber-pole of  each  one.     "Wlien  I  came  across  him  he  was 
boring  a  hole  in  the  base  of  a  shade  tree  and  arranging  for 
an  explosion.     I  smiled  kindly,  and  said  to  him : 
"  Good  morning,  bub." 
"Morning,  old  two-and-six!"  he  replied. 
"  Are  you  that  Smith  boy  ?"  I  asked. 
"  I'll  bet  on't !"  he  answered. 

"  I'm  glad  to  meet  you,"  I  continued;  "  I  hope  you'll  be 
a  good  boy,  go  to  school,  and  not  make  us  any  trouble.  If 
you  are  good  we  shall  all  like  you." 

"I  kin  take  keer  of  myself,  old  Limburger!"  he  answered, 
gi^'ing  mj-  dog  a  kick. 

That  day  he  thrashed  four  more  boys,  broke  three  win- 
dows, stole  two  or  three  dogs,  and  hooked  a  bed-quilt  from 
his  aunt  and  set  up  a  circus  tent  on  a  vacant  lot.  His  aunt 
said  we  had  liberty  to  argue  with  him,  and  Mr.  Stevens 
bribed  him  into  his  yard  and  tried  to  hire 
him  to  be  good.  He  talked  to  the  boy  a 
full  half-hour  about  Heaven,  the  angels, 
Sunday  school,  and  so  forth,  and  was 
ex|iecting  every  minute  that  the  lad  would 
break  down  and  shed  tears,  when  the 
,     young  villain  rose  up  and  said : 

"  Well,  I  guess  I'll  walk  off  on  my 

Playing  Circus.  ,,, 

ear  I 

"  Won't  you  be  good  ?"  pleaded  Mr.  Stevens,  following 
him  to  the  gate. 

"  Oh  !  hire  a  band  to  march  behind  you  !"  sneered  the 
boy,  as  he  lounged  off. 

That  night  he  stretched  a  rope  across  the  walk  and 


100  MAKING    THINGS    STEP    HIGH. 

almost  killed  three  or  four  persons,  and  when  old  Mr.  Gol- 
den came  to  the  door  in  answer  to  a  wild  ring  of  his  door- 
bell, he  was  struck  in  the  eye  with  a  tomato  and  nearly 
blinded. 

It  is  several  months  since  that  Smith  boy  came  into  our 
neighborhood,  and  any  property  owner  will  tell  you  that 
real  estate  has  actually  declined  ten  per  cent  on  his  account. 
He  has  pulled  several  door-bells  out  by  the  roots,  blown  up 
the  sidewalks  wdth  gunpowder,  destroyed  shade  trees, 
stopped  up  our  chimneys,  and  there  has  been  nothing  left 
undone  on  his  part  to  "  make  things  step  high  around 
there."  When  we  saw  that  kind  words  were  lost  upon 
him  it  was  agreed  to  make  him  fear  us.  I  caught  hini  and 
nearly  shook  his  boots  off,  but  in  the  midst  of  my  exulta- 
tion he  built  a  bonfire  under  my  buggy.  Mr.  Stevens 
shook  him,  and  Mr.  Stevens  soon  had  $12  worth  of  plate 
glass  broken  by  a  stone.  Mr.  Brown  cuffed  the  young 
terror's  ears,  and  Mr.  Brown's  coach  dog  was  found  dead 
next  morning. 

The  only  peaceful  interval  we  have  had  was  when  the 
police  had  him  locked  up  for  three  days  and  nights.  It 
seemed  like  Sunday  in  the  neighborhood,  and  real  estate 
evinced  a  disposition  to  bound  right  up.  "We  were  hoping 
that  we  had  the  boy  on  the  hip,  though  feeling  sorry  to 
think  he  would  bring  up  in  the  House  of  Correction,  when 
he  was  discharged.  His  arrival  home  was  signalized  by  a 
shot-gun  serenade,  a  bonfire  in  the  street,  the  breaking  of 
two  windows  and  the  wounding  of  a  dog;  and  he  was  up 
at  four  o'clock  next  morning  prying  off  door  plates  and 
painting  front  steps. 

I  don't  know  what  we  can  do  \vith  that  boy,  except  to 
have  the  law  so  amended  that  we  can  gently  kill  him. 


THAT  INSURANCE  AGENT. 


XOAVIXG  him  on  sight,  I  told  him  that  I  didn't 
want  any  of  his  life  insurance — his  blasted 
life  insurance,  I  believe  I  said — but  it  didn't 
make  any  dift'erence  with  him.  He  followed 
me  down  the  street,  smiling  as  good  naturedly 
as  if  I  had  promised  to  remember  him  in  my 
will,  and  he  said  : 

"  Better  take  out  a  policy  now — terms 
low — nnitual  company — thirty-three  dol- 
lars— note  at  sixty  days — class  'A' — Benjamin  Franklin 
advised  life  insurance." 

He  let  me  alone  for  a  day  or  two,  or,  rather,  I  remained 
in  the  house  to  avoid  him,  but  he  was  waiting  on  the  cor- 
ner to  seize  me.  I  replied  that  I  didn't  want  any  life 
insurance ;  that  I  wouldn't  have  any ;  that  if  he  insured 
me  I'd  go  right  off  and  commit  suicide  and  defraud  his 
company;  that  I  carried  a  pistol  to  shoot  life  insurance 
agents ;  but  his  countenance  never  changed  in  the  least. 
There  was  the  same  plaintive  appeal  in  his  left  eye,  and  the 
same  good-natured  smile  on  his  face  as  he  took  my  arm 
and  said : 

"  Rates  going  up— big  dividend  to  policy-holders— com- 
pany established  in  1840 — surplus  three  millions — a  Chris- 
tian's duty  to  look  out  for  liis  widow." 
101 


102  A   JUMP    AND    A    GOUaE. 

I  didn't  see  liim  again  for  two  days,  and  was  hoping  that 
he  had  been  run  over  or  had  come  down  with  the  small- 
pox, when  he  suddenly  called  at  the  office.  He  said  he'd 
dropped  in  to  see  about  that  little  insurance  matter.  I  told 
him  that  his  grandfather  was  a  horse-thief;  that  all  his 
uncles  had  been  hung  for  murder,  and  that  all  his  aunts 
were  Mormons,  but  it  didn't  move  him.  He  said  he  had  a 
policy  with  him  and  wouldn't  charge  a  cent  commission  to 
make  it  out,  though  he  knew  of  fellows  who  charged  two 
dollars.  I  told  him  that  he  might  go  to  Texas ;  that  I  could 
lick  him  in  three  minutes ;  that  I'd  knock  his  head  off"  if 
he  didn't  get  down  stairs ;  but  that  smile  was  just  the  same 
as  he  said : 

"  Took  twenty-one  policies  yesterday — 
sound  company — best  men  in  town — every 
policy-holder  a  stock-holder — rates  as  low 
as  any  reliable  company — George  Wash- 
ington was  insured  with  us." 

I  hired  a  fireman  to  waylay  him,  but  he 
got  away.  I  sent  an  insane  man  to  his 
house  and  hoped  he'd  mangle  him,  but  he  mangled  the 
lunatic  instead.  It  wasn't  three  days  before  he  called  at 
the  house,  instead  of  waiting  to  take  me  on  the  street. 

I  dragged  him  off  the  steps  and  jumped  on  him  and 
gouged  his  eye,  and  told  him  that  I'd  be  hung  for  his  mur- 
der if  ever  I  caught  him  on  my  street  again.  He  didn't 
even  get  out  of  patience,  but  mildly  inquired  my  age,  occu- 
pation, nativity,  and  date  of  marriage,  and  wanted  to  know 
if  my  father  or  mother  died  of  consumption.  I  called  for 
the  police,  and  kicked  him  again,  and  set  the  dog  on  him, 
but  as  he  wandered  off  up  the  street  I  heard  him  saying : 
"  Offer  better  rates  than  any  other  reliable  company — 
mutual  dividends — take  no  risks  on  old  men — doing  a  safe 
business — Michigan  agents  hiring  steam  engines  tc^  help 
write  out  policies." 


A    QUERY. 


103 


I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  ^^^th  him.  I  sometimes 
wonder  if  Noah  allowed  the  life  insurance  agent,  the  book 
canvasser,  the  man  ^^'ith  the  patent  weather  strips  and  the 
boy  with  the  hat  rack  to  enter  his  ark,  and  if  he  did,  why 
he  didn't  throw  them  overboard  in  water  four  hundred 
feet  deep. 


»^ 


JACK'S   BOY. 


?OTJ  can  imagine  the  surprise  of  "Buttermilk  Dig- 
gings" at  being  aroused  one  night  at  midnight  by 
the  cry  of  a  child,  when  we  hadn't  seen  or  heard  a  "  chick  " 
since  leaving  the  States. 

The  men  were  rough  in  looks,  some  of  them  wicked,  and 
the  Diggings  were  so  far  be^'ond  ci\dlization  that  women 
and  children  were  sometimes  spoken  of  or  dreamed  about, 
but  never  seen. 

Without  the  least  warning  the  cry  of  a  child  arose  on 
the  midnight  air,  penetrated  the  huts,  and  the  sleeping  men 
awoke  and  wondered  if  they  had  heard  aright.  They 
sprang  up,  rushed  out,  and  found  that  there  actually  was 
a  child  in  camp. 

At  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  Big  Ben  Eaynor  and 
three  or  four  men  had  departed  for  a  gulch  a  dozen  miles 
away  to  purchase  supplies,  and  this  was  the  party,  safely 
returned,  which  had  the  boy  in  charge,  for  the  child  was  a 
boy — a  handsome  little  fellow  about  four  years  old.  They 
had  found  him  on  the  trail  beside  a  dead  man — a  grizzly 
old  miner  who  was  apparently  coming  up  to  the  Diggings, 
but  whose  strength  gave  out  when  five  miles  distant.  Our 
men  tried  to  solve  the  mystery,  but  there  wasn't  a  scrap  of 
writing  about  the  dead  man  to  establish  his  identity,  and 
the  boy  had  but  one  answer  to  all  inquiries : 

"  I'm  Jack's  boy!" 

He  wouldn't  say  a  word  about  father  or  mother,  brother 
104 


TAKl';    MK    TO    JACK.  105 

or  sister,  and  Avas  too  joung  to  realize  the  mystery  of  death. ' 
He  thought  the  dead  man  had  fallen  asleep,  and  was 
patiently  waiting  for  him  to  awake.  Our  men  buried  the 
corpse  as  well  as  they  could,  picked  up  the  boy  and  came 
on,  and  in  five  minutes  after  they  entered  the  Diggings 
every  man  on  the  side-hill  was  out  to  look  upon  the  boy 
and  become  excited  over  his  arrival. 

It  was  a  strange  fix  for  a  mining  town — to  have  a  pale- 
faced  innocent  child  suddenly  thrown  into  the  arms  of  men 
who  would  as  quick  thought  of  buying  a  canary  bird.  The 
child  was  tired  and  sleepy,  and  fell  asleep  with  all  the 
crowd  around  him  and  some  of  the  men  touching  his  face 
and  hair  "  to  see  if  he  was  alive  or  stufted." 

Big  Ben  had  carried  the  boy  from  where  the  dead  man 
was  found,  and  he  wouldn't  give  him  up  to  any  of  us.  He 
placed  the  child  on  his  own  blanket,  cleared  the  cabin,  and 
we  had  to  wait  until  daylight  before  curiosity  was  further 
gratified.  The  men  gathered  in  groups  and  talked  the 
balance  of  the  night  away,  each  one  ha\ing  a  theory  in 
regard  to  the  presence  of  the  child  in  that  wild  country, 
but  no  one  was  able  to  clear  away  the  mystery.  Some 
thought  the  dead  miner  was  the  boy's  father;  others 
thought  the  man  had  stolen  or  found  the  lad,  and  all  were 
very  anxious  to  learn  further  particulars.  Those  who 
hoped  to  have  the  mystery  solved  were  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment. The  boy  awoke  about  seven  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  his  first  words  were  : 

"  AVliere's  Jack — take  me  to  Jack !" 

I  might  as  well  tell  you  here  that  the  mystery  continued 
a  mystery.  For  days  and  days  the  boy  called  out  for  his 
dead  friend,  making  our  hearts  sore  with  his  wail,  and  all 
our  (juestions  failed  to  bring  us  the  information  we  sought 
for.  After  four  or  five  weeks  he  took  to  Big  Ben  and 
grew  more  contented,  but  we  could  see  that  something 


106  A   STREAM    OF   GLORY. 

was  wearing  on  him.  His  presence  almost  stopped  work 
in  the  Diggings.  He  was  a  curiosity — a  sort  of  menagerie, 
and  the  men  were  neTer  tired  of  watching  his  movements 
and  Hstening  to  his  childish  words.  He  wasn't  exactly 
afraid  of  any  of  us,  yet  he  would  trust  no  one  but  Big  Ben. 

That  was  strange,  too,  for  Ben  was  one  of  the  roughest 
men  in  the  Diggings,  and  no  one  dreamed  that  he  had  a 
tender  spot  in  his  heart.  "We  noticed  a  change  in  him, 
however,  within  two  or  three  days  after  the  arrival  of  the 
little  stranger,  and  after  a  month  it  was  a  rare  thing  for 
him  to  use  an  oath.  The  boy  slept  on  his  arm  every  night, 
and  was  near  him  most  of  every  day,  yet  he  didn't  act 
as  a  boy  of  that  age  should.  He  moped  and  pined,  grew 
paler  and  poorer  every  day,  and  we  realized  at  last  that  we 
had  got  to  lose  him. 

One  morning  the  news  spread  around  that  he  was  ill  of 
fever,  and  we  knocked  off  work.  Big  Ben  sat  with  the 
boy  in  his  arms  and  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  for  the  next  three 
days  and  nights  the  big-hearted  giant  never  closed  his  eyes 
in  sleep.  Jack's  boy  noticed  none  of  us,  made  no  com- 
plaints, and  never  spoke  except  to  say  : 

"  I'm  Jack's  boy — I  want  to  see  Jack !" 

The  end  came  at  sundown  one  afternoon.  All  were  tear- 
ful, and  some  of  the  men  could  not  speak  as  they  gathered 
around  Big  Ben's  cabin.  The  giant  miner  held  the  boy 
close  to  his  bosom,  as  if  he  could  keep  death  away,  and 
his  big  tears  fell  upon  the  lad's  marble-like  face.  ISTot  a 
word  was  spoken  as  the  bareheaded  men  watched  the  com- 
ing of  death.  The  setting  sun  poured  a  stream  of  glory 
into  the  rude  and  smoke-stained  hut,  and  the  warm  light 
touched  the  dying  boy's  face  and  rippled  and  waved  across 
it  as  if  rocking  him  to  sleep  with  angel's  hand.  The  rays 
fell  upon  Big  Ben,  and  we  wondered  that  we  had  never 
seen  the  soft  lines  in  his  face  before. 


ANGELS   TAKE    IIIM    IN    THEIR   ARMS.  107 

Jnst  when  the  departing  sun  seemed  to  gather  strength 
and  pour  all  its  golden  beams  over  the  dying  boy,  as  if  to 
purify  him  for  Heaven's  atmosphere,  we  saw  him  gasp 
once  or  t^^'ice,  his  chin  fall,  and  then  we  knew  that  the 
angels  had  taken  him  in  their  arms, 

"Jack's  boy  is  m  Heaven!"  whispered  Big  Ben,  a  sob 
in  his  throat,  and  he  kissed  the  face  of  the  dead  and  put 
the  little  body  down  with  a  mother's  tenderness. 

There  should  be  flowers  on  the  grave — we  planted  them 
there,  and  the  wild  wind  coming  down  the  lonesome,  rug- 
ged canyon  should  soften  as  it  reaches  the  branches  of  the 
tree  at  whose  foot  the  grave  was  sorrowfully  hollowed  out. 

Poor  Jack's  boy — strange  mystery  ! 


A  PARTICULAR  GIRL. 


^J^^J^AY  back  in  the  pioneer  days  of  Michigan,  when 
^zS  log  houses  contained  parlor,  kitchen,  bedroom  and 
all  in  one  large  room,  a  couple  of  travelers  put  up  for  the 
night  at  a  cabin  on  the  Grand  Iliver  plank  road.  The 
family  consisted  of  three  persons,  father,  mother  and 
daughter,  the  latter  being  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  old. 
There  were  two  beds  in  the  room,  and  the  old  woman  fixed 
up  a  "  shake-down  "  for  the  travelers. 


About  ten  o'clock  conversation  was  exhausted,  and  after 

108 


TIME    TO    TUMBLE    IN.  109 

the  family  had  hekl  a  whispered  conversation  in  a  corner 
the  oki  man  advanced  to  the  travelers  and  said  : 

"  It's  time  to  tumble  in,  and  I  must  ask  ye  to  step  out 
door  until  the  gal  and  the  old  woman  git  under  cover.  I 
hain't  modest,  and  the  old  woman  don't  care  a  skip,  but  the 
gal  is  a  leetle  pertickler,  and  if  ye'll  jist  step  out  till  I  hol- 
ler it'll  be  doin'  her  a  powerful  favor." 

The  travelers  waited  outside  the  door  until  the  old  man 
"  hollered,"  and  he  further  excused  himself  by  remarking  : 

"  Yes,  Marier's  gittin'  mighty  pertickler,  arid  I'll  bet  it 
won't  be  three  month  afore  she'll  want  shoes  and  stockins 
and  a  breast-pin !" 

"  I  won't  nuther !"  answered  the  girl. 

"  Well,  I  hope  not,"  sighed  the  old  man.  "  Marier's  a 
good  girl,  and  it  would  just  about  use  ine'n  the  old  woman 
up  if  she  got  so  proud  that  she  wanted  soap  every  time  she 
washed  her  hands,  and  lie  for  her  ha'r  whenever  she  heard 
a  land-looker  holler !" 


BRIGHAM  YOUNG'S  WIFE. 


tWAS  in  Salt  Lake  the  other  day,  and  hearing  some 
one  say  that  Brigham  Young  had  lost  his  wife,  I  went 
up  to  the  cemetery  to  view  the  spot  where  she  rested — all 
that  was  earthly  of  her,  and  so  forth. 

I  found  the  spot  without  difficulty.     A  plain  head-stone 
conveyed  the  sad  intelligence  that  her  name 
was  Hannah,  and  that  she  died  in  the  thirty- 
eighth  year  of  her  age.     There  was  a  verse  of 
poetry  on  the  stone — to  the 


His  Wife's  Grave. 


effect  that  she  might  expect 
to  meet  him  in  Heaven  after 
life's  troubles  were  o'er  and 
he  had  got  through  with  the 
marrying  business. 

I  thought  how  sad  it  was  for  a  man  only  eighty-seven 
years  of  age  to  lose  his  vrife  just  when  he  was  prepared  to 
enjoy  life,  and  I  wondered  if  he  wouldn't  get  reckless,  auc- 
tion off  his  household  furniture,  join  the  Sons  of  Malta, 
and  walk  around  with  his  hat  on  the  back  of 
his  head. 

Going  along  a  little  further  I  discovered  that 
the  Prophet  had  lost  his  -wnfe. 
Her  tombstone  was  before 
me,  and  her  name,  while  she 
lived  in  this  cold  world,  was 
Jane.  Yes,  the  poor  old  man 
had  suffered  a  great  domestic  affliction.  Jane  had  expired 
110 


His  Wife's  Grave. 


SAMANTIIA    AND    FLOKA.  Ill 

at  the  age  of  tliirty-one— Just  ahout  the  time  a  woman 
begins  to  take  a  deep  interest  in  circus  processions  and  the 
sufi'rage  question.  Wliile  lie  might  have  planned  to  take 
two  or  tliree  hundred  Fourth  of  July  excursions  with  her, 
Death  stepped  in  and  she  ceased  to  adorn  his  ranch  any 
more.  I  pitied  him,  and  I  lioped  that  his  mother-in-law 
didn't  come  around  and  boss  the  funeral  arrangements  and 
charge  him  Avith  having  broken  Jane's  heart  by  throwing 
cold  glances  across  the  dinner  table. 

Turning  around  the  corner  I  was  suddenly 
made  aware  of  the  painful  fact  that  Mrs.  Brig- 
ham  Young  was  dead.     Yes,  there  was  her 
tombstone,  sapng  that  Death 
had  come  serenading  around 
his  harem  and  abducted  his 
dear    Samantha,    while    yet  I 
she  was  enjoying  the  fortieth  his  wife's  grave. 

year  of  her  existence.  Few  men  who  have  not  lost  a  A\dfe 
by  elopement  or  death  know  how  it  wrenches  the  heart- 
strings when  a  sorrowing  husband  sits  down  in  his  desolate 
house  and  reflects  that  he  has  got  to  build  the  fires,  shake 
down  the  coal  stove  and  saw  all  the  wood  for  the  kitchen 
stove.  I  could  imagine  just  how  tlie  sad  blow  had  doubled 
the  old  man  up,  and  how  he  walked  out  in  the  shady  lane 
behind  his  house  and  felt  as  if  he  should  never 
have  the  heart  to  sit  down  of  an  evening  with 
another  comic  almanac. 

Half-way  down  to  the  gate 
I  came  upon  the  spot  where 
all  that  was  mortal  of  Mrs. 
Brigham  Young  had  been 
laid  away.     It  was  the  grave  his  wife's  Gravk. 

of  his  dear  wife  Flora,  and  she  was  cut  down  like  a  flower 
Avhen  only  twenty-eight  years  of  age.     She  had  doubtless 


112  HER    NAME    WAS    CLARINDA. 

just  got  to  loving  tlie  old  man  for  himself  entirely,  and  Death 
stepped  in  and  left  him  to  go  ahead  alone,  and  grope  in 
heathen  ignorance  of  how  many  cups  of  sugar  it  takes  for 
a  quart  of  cranberry  sauce,  or  when  is  the  best  time  to  cut 
slippery-elm  bark.  His  happy  household  had  been  dark- 
ened, his  heart  made  sore,  and  his  old  age  rendered  a 
double  burden.  As  I  leaned  over  the  tombstone  I  won- 
dered how  it  would  seem  to  the  afflicted  husband  not  to  be 
asked  if  he  could  spare  ten  dollars  for  a  hat,  five  for  a  bead 
belt  and  fifteen  for  a  set  of  curls,  and  how  lonely  he'd  be* 
when  he  went  home  on  election  nights  and  there'd  be  no 
one  to  stand  in  the  hall  and  call  him  pet  names  and  say 
that  she'd  burst  the  chains  that  linked  her  to  such  a 
monster. 

As  I  was  going  out  of  the  gate  I  happened 
to  discover  that  Brigham  Young  had  sustained 
a  great  loss.  There  was  his  wife's  grave  before 
me.  The  headstone  said  that 
her  name  was  Clarinda,  and 
that  she  was  a  week  or  so 
over  forty-five  years  of  age- 
though  she  probably  called  his  wife's  grave. 
herself  about  thirty.  There  wasn't  any  poetry  on  the  stone 
to  tell  the  traveler  whether  she  was  a  XXX  wife,  or  only  a 
common  sort  of  partner,  but  I  knew  just  how  the  afflicted 
husband  felt  when  Death  spread  his  mantle  o'er  the  little 
household.  He  didn't  have  any  one  to  pass  the  fried  pork 
and  potatoes  across  the  table — no  one  to  oil  his  hair  Sun- 
day mornings — no  one  to  go  down  to  the  grocery  after  his 
raw  oysters  when  he  had  the  colic.  If  he  wanted  a  mus- 
tard plaster  for  his  neck,  some  one  to  pare  his  corns,  or  the 
baby  was  taken  sick  in  the  night,  he  couldn't  boss  any  one 
around  any  more. 

I  was  going  away  when  I  encountered  a  stranger,  who 


THE    MORTAL    REMAINS. 


113 


wanted  to  know  if  I  had  heard  that  Brigham  Young's  wife 
was  dead.     lie  ottered  to  sliow  nie  her  grave,  and  I  went 
with  him  and  saw  where  the  mortal  remains  of  the  dear 
partner  lay. 
u 


THE  BOYS  AROUND  THE  HOUSE. 


^URELY,  you  must  have  seen  a  boy  of 
eight  or  ten  years  of  age  get  ready 
for  bed?  His  shoe-strings  are  in  a 
liard  knot,  and  after  a  few  vain 
ettbrts  to  unlace  them  he  rushes  after 
a  case-knife  and  saws  each  string  in 
two.  One  shoe  is  thrown  under  tlie 
table,  the  other  behind  the  stove, 
his  jacket  behind  the  door,  and  his 
stockings  are  distributed  over  as  many 
chairs  as  they  will  reach. 
The  boy  doesn't  slip  his  pants  off;  he  struggles  out  of 
them,  holding  a  leg  down  with  his  foot  and  drawing  his 
limbs  out  after  many  stupendous  efforts.  "While  doing  this 
his  hands  are  clutched  into  the  bedclothes,  and  by  the  time 
he  is  ready  to  get  into  bed  the  quilts  and  sheets  are  awry 
and  the  bed  is  full  of  humps  and  lumps.  His  brother  has 
gone  through  the  same  motions,  and  both  finally  crawl 
into  bed.  They  are  good  boys,  and  they  love  each  other, 
but  they  are  hardly  settled  on  their  backs  when  one  cries 
out: 

"  Hitch  along !" 

"  I  won't !"  bluntly  replies  the  other. 
114 


THE    BEAR    STORY.  115 

"  Ma,  Bill's  got  more'n  half  the  bed!"  cries  the  first. 

"Hain't  cither,  ma!"  replies  Bill. 

There  is  a  moment  of  silence,  and  then  the  first  exclaims  : 

"  Git  yer  feet  off'n  me  !" 

"  They  hain't  touching  you  !"  is^the  answer. 

'"  Yes  they  he,  and  you're  on  my  pillar,  too  !" 

''  Oh  !  my  stars,  what  a  whopper  !  You'll  never  go  to 
Heaven !" 

The  mother  looks  into  the  bedroom  and  kindly  says : 

"  Come,  children,  be  good  and  don't  make  your  mother 
any  trouble," 

"  AVell,"  replies  the  youngest,  "  if  Bill  '11  tell  me  a  bear 
story  I'll  go  to  sleep." 

The  mother  withdraws,  and  Bill  starts  out : 

"  Well,  you  know,  there  was  an  old  bear  who  lived  in  a 
cave.  He  was  a  big  black  bear.  He  had  eyes  like  coals 
of  fire,  you  know,  and  when  he  looked  at  a  feller  he " 

"  Ma,  Bill's  scaring  me !"  yells  Henry,  sitting  on  end. 

"  Oh,  ma !  that's  the  awfullest  story  you  ever  heard !" 
replies  Bill. 

"  Hitch  along,  I  say !"  exclaims  Henry. 

"  I  am  along !"  replies  Bill. 

"  Git  your  knee  out'n  my  back !" 

"  Hain't  anywhere  near  ye  !" 

"  Gimme  some  cloze  !" 

"  You've  got  more'n  half  now !" 

"  Come,  children,  do  be  good  and  go  to  sleep,"  says  the 
mother,  entering  the  room  and  arranging  the  clothes. 

They  doze  off  after  a  few  muttered  words,  to  preserve 
the  peace  until  morning,  and  it  is  popularly  supposed  that 
an  angel  sits  on  each  bed-post  to  sentinel  either  curly  head 
during  the  long,  dark  hours. 

"  Ho-hum  !"  yawns  Bill. 

"  Ho-hum  !"  yawns  Henry. 


116  THE    MORNING    HUNT. 

It  is  morning,  and  they  crawl  out  of  bed.  After  four  or 
five  eiforts  they  get  into  their  pants,  and  then  reach  out  for 
stockings. 

"I  know  I  put  mine  right  down  here  by  this  bed!" 
exclaims  Bill. 

*'  And  I  put  mine  right  there  by  the  end  of  the  bureau  !" 
adds  Henry. 

They  wander  around,  growling  and  jawing,  and  the 
mother  finally  finds  the  stockings.  Then  comes  the  jackets. 
They  are  positive  that  they  hung  them  on  the  hooks,  and 
boldly  charge  that  some  malicious  person  wickedly  removed 
them.  And  so  it  goes  until  each  one  is  finally  dressed, 
washed  and  ready  for  breakfast,  and  the  mother  feels  such 
a  burden  ott"  her  mind  that  she  can  endure  what  follows 
their  leaving  the  table — a  good  half-hour's  hunt  after  their 
hats,  which  they  "  positively  hung  up,"  but  which  are  at 
last  found  under  some  bed  or  stowed  away  behind  the 
wood-box. 


THE  DEBATING  SOCIETY  AT  BLACK  WOLF  MINE. 


m 


■,)  V>%)m  BOUT  two  hundred  of  iis,  more  or  less,  were 
engaged  in  silver  mining  under  the  shadow 
of  one  of  ^N^evada's  grandest  mountains. 
We  had  card-plajing,  singing,  fiddling, 
target-shooting,  horse-racing  and  fighting 
for  amusement,  hut  there  was  still  some- 
^ii*  thing  lacking.  We  didn't  know  what  it 
was  until  Colonel  Pick  jumped  on  to  a  stump  one  night, 
yelled  "  order !"  and  said : 

"Feller-citizens — Ar'  we  hethuns  or  honest  white 
men  ?  Do  we  mean  to  keep  on  living  like  sinners,  or  ar' 
we  goin'  to  git  up  sunthin'  to  improve  our  intellecks  ?  I've 
bin  a-thinkin'  that  we  hain't  doin'  our  duty  as  edecated 
Americans,  and  I  go  in  fur  a  dehatin'  society.  Yes,  less 
git  up  a  debatin'  society,  and  raise  nashanul  questions,  and 
discuss  'em,  and  do  sunthin'  to  improve  our  minds." 

"  Whoop  !  That's  her — ^glory  for  she  !"  yelled  the  men 
around  him,  and  it  was  at  once  decided  that  we  organize  a 
society  for  intellectual  improvement. 

Colonel  Pick  and  Silver  Jim  were  deputized  to  decide 
on  a  title  for  the  society,  and  to  draft  by-laws,  and  the  next 
evening  they  announced  that  the  society  would  be  known 
as  "  The  Muchul  Mentle  Debatin'  and  Improavement 
Society,"  and  they  submitted  the  following  by-laws,  which 
were  approved  with  a  yell : 

117 


118 


A    PICK-ED    niESIDENT. 


1.  We  meet  every  Wednesday  night. 

2.  'No  ciissin'. 

3.  The  president  shall  hold  office  a  month. 

4.  No  reptile  shall  speak  over  five  minutes. 

5.  No  gougin'  or  bitin'. 

6.  Any  feller  who  don't  pay  his  duze  shall  be  histed. 
The    orthography    belongs    to   the    Colonel,   who   was 

regarded  as  a  man  of  great  literary  ability. 

A  dozen  of  us  spent  a  whole  day  constructing  a  big 
shanty  and  arranging  it,  and  when  the  society  met,  Colonel 
Pick  was  elected  president  by  acclamation.  He  felt  the 
importance  of  his  position,  and  appreciated  the  high  honor, 
and  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  arose  and  began  : 

"  Feller-citizens  of  Black  Wolf — This  ar'  an  honor  which 
I  didn't  suspect — ^blast  me  if  I  did  !  I  didn't  want  no  offis, 
but  I  won't  go  back  on  you.  I  thank  you  much  times. 
I'll  try  and  do  the  squar'  thing  by  everybody.  I  hain't 
much  of  a  public  speaker,  and 
I  can't  say  much.  I'm  kinder 
embarrassed  and  flopped !" 

The  first  two  debates  passed 
oft"  all  right,  probably  owing  to 
the  fact  that  the  Colonel  was 
left  to  do  most  of  the  talking. 
;Nf  ost  of  the  men  were  shy  about 
standing  up,  and  some  couldn't 
have  said  twenty  words  if  death 
had  been  the  alterjiative. 

When  not  on  his  feet  the 
Colonel  sat  cross-legged  on  a 
barrel,  looking  very  dignified  and  consequential,  and  he 
frequently  remarked : 

"  Gentlemen,  this  'ere  debate  ar'  open  to  overylwdy." 
One  of  the  miners,  named  Lanky  Fox,  who  had  been 


The  Colonel. 


CARRIKD    INTO    AFRICA.  119 

over  to  Grizzly  Rise  for  two  weeks,  returned  just  before 
the  third  weekly  meeting.  He  was  a  conceited  fellow, 
having  a  ready  tongue,  and  he  spent  one  day  fixing  him- 
self up  for  the  debate,  meaning  to  demolish  any  one  who 
dared  take  the  opposing  side  of  the  question. 

There  was  a  committee  of  three  to  select  subjects  for 
debate,  and  on  that  night,  as  I  well  remember,  the  bulletin 
board  bore  the  followiuo- : 


Lanky  Fox  took  the  affirmative  side  and  opened  the 
debate.  In  the  course  of  his  remarks  he  spoke  about  mis- 
sionary work  in  Africa,  when  the  Colonel  jumped  up  and 
said: 

"  What  hez  this  debate  got  to  do  with  Afriky  ?  Mister 
Fox  is  out  of  order,  and  will  please  squat!" 

"  I  appeal  to  the  society  to  sustain  me  in  my  position," 
replied  Fox. 

"  You  can't  'peel  to  nuthin',  sir  !"  continued  the  Colonel, 
"  and  you  can't  bluff  this  'ere  society  down  with  big  words  ! 
You've  got  to  prance  off  the  stage  fur  bein'  out  of  order !" 

"Have  you  any  precedent  for  sustaining  an  arbitrary 
decision  of  this  sort?"  inquired  Lanky  Fox,  looking  around 
the  audience. 

Those  were  twice  as  big  words  as  the  Colonel  could  use, 
and  they  made  his  hair  stand.  He  rose  up,  spit  on  his 
hands,  and  said : 


120 


RETURNED    TO    POKER. 


I'm  goin'  to  presarve  order  here  if  it  takes  a  leg !     Git 


down  from  thar',  mister 

"  This  tyranny- 
sprang  upon  him. 


commenced  Fox,  but  the  Colonel 


There  was  an  awful  fight.  We  all  wanted  fun,  and  we 
kicked  the  lights  out  and  went  in,  and  for  fifteen  minutes, 
or  until  the  shanty  fell  down,  everybody  struck  out  for 
himself.  After  the  row  the  Colonel  mounted  a  rock,  the 
blood  trickling  from  his  bitten  ear,  and  his  nose  swelled  to 
twice  its  usual  size,  and  he  remarked : 

"  Feller-sinners — I  herefore  and  hereby  resign  my  posi- 
tion as  boss  of  this  'ere  debatin'  society,  and  after  this  I'm 
goin'  to  advance  my  intelleck-  by  playing  the  best  game  of 
poker  of  any  heathen  in  Black  Wolf  Camp  !" 

That  was,  I  believe,  the  first  and  last  effort  ever  made  to 
raise  the  social  standing  of  our  gulch. 


GOING  TO  FUNERALS. 


)IIAT  amiable  Mrs.  Ilarkiiis  stopped  in 
yesterday  as  she  was  on  her  way  home 
from  the  funerah     She  said  the  eorpse 
didn't  look  a  bit  natural,  and  she  was 
almost  sorry  that  she  went.    Mrs.  Har- 
kins   makes   it   a  business   to   attend 
erals,  and  what  she  says  can  be  relied  on. 
soon  as  she  hears  that  any  one  is  likely 
to  die,  she  pays  them  a  visit,  and  if  death  ensues 
and  she  can  get  a  chance  to  "  sit  up  with  the 
corpse,"  she  is  there  on  time,  and  she  never  leaves 
until  she  has  seen  the  grave  filled  up. 

And  Mrs.  High  is  another.  She  doesn't  take  the  least 
interest  in  the  spring  styles  or  neighborhood  scandals,  but 
let  any  one  die  and  she  is  all  attention.  She  wants  to  know 
what  they  died  of ;  whether  they  were  prepared ;  whether 
they  mentioned  an>i;hing  about  her  as  they  went  off; 
whether  they  kicked  around  or  died  quietly ;  and  if  they 
requested  to  be  buried  in  white  or  black.  Then  she  visits 
the  house  of  mourning.  As  she  enters  by  the  back  way 
she  commences  to  get  her  mourning  look  on,  and  by  the 
time  she  gets  through  to  the  front  room  one  would  think 
she  had  lost  five  children  at  once. 
121 


12: 


SILVER    NAILS    IN    IT. 


"  How  very  natural — seems  as  if  he  was  sleeping,"  she 
whispers,  as  she  hends  over  the  dead. 

Then  she  takes  oiF  her  bonnet  and  assumes  charge  of  the 
house,  sending  word  to  her  family  that  they  must  get  along 
without  her  as  best  they  can  until  she  has  performed  her 
duty. 


On  The  Trail. 


And  Mrs.  Jobkins  is  another.  If  any  one  dies  without 
her  having  heard  that  they  were  likely  to  go  she  can't  for- 
give herself  for  a  month.  On  the  day  of  the  funeral  she 
sends  her  children  away,  has  Jobkins  take  his  dinner  to 
the  shop,  and  she  puts  on  black  and  attends.  She  com- 
mences to  shed  tears  when  she  leaves  home,  and  only  ends 
when  she  returns.  She  always  secures  the  best  seat  in  the 
best  hack,  is  the  first  one  at  the  grave,  remembers  all 
about  the  sermon,  and  five  years  from  that  day  she  can  tell 
who  cried  and  who  didn't;  whether  the  corpse  looked 
natural  or  otherwise ;  how  many  carriages  were  out,  and 
in  fixct  all  about  it. 

Once  when  I  was  down  with  fever  the  old  ghoul  heard 
that  I  was  going  to  die.  She  came  over  on  the  gallop,  and 
as  she  sat  down  by  the  bed  she  said  to  my  wife : 

"  Of  course  you'll  have  a  black  velvet  coflin,  trimmed 
wdth  silver  nails,  and  real  lace  around  the  inside." 

Then  she  wanted  to  know  if  I  was  prepared ;  if  I  wanted 
to   request   my  wife   not  to  marry  again ;  if  I  had  ever 


A    CASE    OF    SPITE.  123 

cheated  anybody  and  wanted  to  ask  their  forgiveness,  and 
she  promised  me  one  of  the  hirgest  funeral  processions  of 
the  season.  She  was  awfully  disappointed  when  'I  began  to 
mend,  and  she  said  to  one  of  her  friends  : 

"  It's  another  o'  them  cases  where  he  was  so  wicked  he 
couldn't  die." 


HOW  THE  MATE  DIED. 


0  one  seemed  to  know  liow  or  when  he  reached 
^1^  the  city.  He  was  well  along  in  years,  though  not 
old.  His  hair  was  grizzly,  his  face  sun-burned,  and  his 
hands  showed  that  he  had  been  a  worker. 

It  was  at  a  boarding-house  where  river  men  find  food 
and  rest,  and  the  stranger  would  have  passed  unnoticed 
had  not  his  wild,  strange  talk  aroused  some  of  the  men  at 
midnight.  His  illness  was  serious,  or  he  would  not  have 
had  such  glassy  ejx's,  and  such  a  ghastly  look. 

"  Haul  in,  all  hands  there  ;  lively  lads,  ho  !  she  comes  !" 
he  called  out  as  the  men  tried  to  quiet  him. 

The  doctor  said  it  was  a  bad  case — some  terrible  fever 
which  the  man  had  been  fighting  off  for  weeks  and  weeks, 
but  which  had  broken  him  down  at  last. 

"  Out  with  the  plank,  yip  !  ha !  lively !  lively !  called  the 
patient,  as  the  doctor  tried  to  count  his  pulse. 

"  He  must  have  an  opiate  first,"  whispered  the  doctor, 
and  he  opened  his  little  case  of  medicine.  His  hand  passed 
from  bottle  to  bottle  until  it  rested  upon  the  one  desired, 
and  just  then  the  patient  shouted : 

"  Hip  !  hi !  fly  there  !  Here,  you  niggers — speed — fly — 
gallop — rush !  you  over  there — hip  !  Blast  your  lazy  souls  ! 
why  don't  you  rush  them  bar'ls  off!" 

"  He  ought  to  have  been  under  the  doctor's  care  a  week 
ago,"  whispered  the  physician,  as  he  softly  jostled  some  of 
124 


HE    "WAS    A    DKIVER.  125 

the  powder  out  on  the  little  square  sheets  of  paper  pre- 
viously prepared. 

Four  or  live  brawny  men  had  entered  the  dingy  room, 
and  they  looked  from  doctor  to  patient  without  speaking. 

"  Lift  up  on  'er — up  !  up  !  yi !  hi !  you  niggers  !  Why  in 
blazes  don't  you  straighten  your  backs!"  called  the  sick 
man. 

"He's  bin  mate !"  whispered  one  of  the  men. 

"And  he  thinks  he's  loading  up  !"  added  a  second. 

"  K  I  can  quiet  him  to-night  I'll  learn  something  of  his 
case  in  the  morning,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  folded  the  pow- 
ders into  little  square  packages.  "  Such  men  never  give 
up  until  the  last  hour.  See  that  chest,  that  neck,  that 
arm !  He  could  have  stood  up  against  cholera  and  yellow 
fever  combined,  if  he  had  taken  care  of  himself." 

"  This  way — this  way — roll  'em — pile  'em — throw  'em — 
why  don't  you  jerk  lightning  right  out  o'  those  bar'ls!" 
shouted  the  patient. 

"  Thinks  he's  taking  on  whisky  and  flour !"  whispered 
one  of  the  men. 

"  I'll  bet  he  was  a  driver,"  added  a  second. 

"At  one  o'clock,"  said  the  doctor,  ranging  the  little 
packages  in  a  row,  "  give  him  one  of  these  dissolved  in  a 
spoonful  of  water,  and  then  one  every  hour  until  I  return, 
unless  he  should  become  quiet." 

"  It's  pretty  ser'us,  isn't  it,  doctor  ?"  asked  one  of  the 
men. 

"  Well,  I've  seen  hundreds  of  worse  cases,  but  I  can't  tell 
how  the  powders  will  work.  He's  in  for  a  long  run  of 
fever,  at  best,  and  if  he  is  a  stranger  and  short  up,  I  pity 
him." 

"  Hustle — fly — roll  that  whole  wood-pile  this  way — hip  ! 
get  out  o'  your  hides,  niggers !"  exclaimed  the  patient,  his 
glassy  eyes  following  the  doctor  to  the  door. 


126  A   WHARF-BOAT   IN    HEAVEN, 

"  Thinks  he's  wooding  up  now,"  whispered  one  of  the 
men.     "  He  was  mate  all  through — that's  plain  !" 

For  a  long  time  the  patient  whispered  to  himself,  and 
the  watchers  could  only  catch  a  word  now  and  then,  but  he 
suddenly  cried  out : 

"  Sharp,  there  !  Sharp  !  Out  with  her— lift !  up  !  heave  ! 
so  she  goes  !  yi !" 

"  He's  making  a  landing  now,"  whispered  one  of  the 
men,  holding  his  watch  and  waiting  for  one  o'clock. 

"  There  you  go !"  continued  the  patient,  after  a  moment — 
"  fling  'em— high — lively — great  Heavens  !  why  don't  you 
tear  splinters  off  your  heels — whoop  !  shoo  !" 

He  was  quiet  again  for  five  minutes,  and  one  of  the  men 
mixed  the  powder  with  a  spoonful  of  water.  They  were 
hesitating  whether  to  disturb  the  sick  man,  when  he  sat 
up,  threw  his  arms  about  and  yelled : 

"  Crook  yer  backs,  ye  black  fiends — ^hup  !  ki !  yi !  dust! 
fly !  snatch  'em — great  snakes,  why  don't  ye  tussel  that  cot- 
ton at  me  !" 

He  fell  back,  and  when  they  bent  over  him  he  was  dead ! 
The  men  looked  at  each  other  in  astonishment.     They 
could  not  believe  it  until  there  was  no  longer  room  for 
doubt. 

"  I  hope  he's  got  a  plain  channel !"  whispered  one,  as  he 
drew  the  quilt  up. 

"  There's  no  bars  on  that  river !"  added  a  second. 
And  as  the  third  pressed  the  lids  down  over  the  sight- 
less, glassy  balls,  he  said  : 

"  He  was  a  stranger,  and  I  hope  the  Lord  '11  let  him 
make  fast  alongside  of  a  wharf-boat  in  Heaven  !" 


ENOCH   ARDEN. 


[^  DON'T  see  how 
Mr.    Tennyson 
was  so  deceived  in 
Enoch 
Arden. 
I  have 
:^  '    just  had  a  talk  with 
^^^.fjs  Mr.  Arden,  and  he  de- 
nies that  he  died  of  a  bro- 
■•.*5i  ken  heart,  and  flatly  con- 
^,   2^  '  tradicts  many  other  things 
''^'^v^  '   narrated  by  the  English 
poet. 

In  the  first  place  Enoch  had 

been  married  just  twenty-three 

years   when    he  went  sailing, 

and  he  had  been  before  the 

police  justice  eighteen 

times  for  mauling  Mrs. 

Arden.    His  usual  way 

of  leaving   home  was 

by  dodging    through 

the  back  door  to  escape  a  flat-iron,  and  her  usual  way  of 

welcoming  him  back  was  to  say : 

127 


Waiting  For  a  Sail. 


128  LEAVES    HOxME,    ETC. 

"  Well,  you  old  mutton-head,  what  saloon-keeper  turned 
you  out  doors  this  time  ?" 

He  left  home  after  a  big  family  fight,  took  a  sailor's 
berth  at  $17  per  month,  and  was  wrecked  as  stated.  He 
wasn't  the  only  survivor,  as  Tennyson  states.  Seven  or 
eight  others  were  saved  with  him,  and  in  the  first  cut  I 
have  endeavored  to  show  how  Enoch  passed  his  time  while 
"  waiting  for  a  sail."  He  didn't  suffer  for  provisions,  and 
the  only  time  he  ever  thought  of  his  family  he  remarked : 

"  I  hope  that  old  red-headed  wife  of  mine  will  run  away 
while  I'm  gone !" 

Well,  after  a  year  or  two  Enoch  was  rescued,  and  he 
finally  landed  in  his  native  village.     It  was  dark  as  he 


"Things  Looked  as  Usual." 

entered  the  hamlet,  and  as  he  walked  along  the  well-remem- 
bered street  he  saw  that  Deacon  Tracy  had  built  an  addition 
to  his  house.  A  new  cooper-shop  had  been  erected  by  some 
one,  and  some  bloated  capitalist  had  started  a  new  under- 
taker's shop. 

When  Enoch  reached  his  gate  he  found  everything  about 
as  usual.  The  gate  hung  on  one  hinge,  Jim  McGraw's 
pig  was  rooting  up  the  garden,  and  an  old  hoop-skirt  was 


STICKS    HIS    NOSE    IN. 


129 


swinging  from  the  cherry  tree  near  the  house.  Enoch 
lioped  tliat  the  old  woman  had  removed  to  Texas,  and  he 
walked  softly  up  and  peered  into  one  of  the  windows. 

Tennyson  goes  on,  you  know,  to  say  that  the  returned 
wanderer  saw  strange  children  playing  around,  saw  his 
vriie  looking  sad  yet  happy,  and  that  a  strange  man  was 
there  as  her  husband.  Enoch  didn't  see  any  such  thing. 
I  have  here  illustrated  just  what  greeted  his  vision  as  he 
pulled  a  pillow  out  of  the  broken  pane  and  stuck  his 
nose  in. 


"What  Arden  Saw. 


And  he  didn't  skulk  off  and  go  away  to  a  hotel  and 
resolve  never  to  reveal  his  identity.  No,  sir.  He  opened 
the  kitchen  door,  walked  in,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Come,  prance  out  some  supper,  or  I'll  make  it  the  w^orse 


for 


you 


130  HE    FEELS    NATURAL. 

"  Got  out  of  State  Prison,  eh  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Arden,  aa 
she  wrung  out  a  towel  and  tossed  it  on  to  a  chair. 

And  then  they  mauled  each  other  with  alacrity  and  dis- 
patch, and  it  wasn't  half  an  hour  before  Enoch  felt  as 
natural  and  as  much  at  home  as  if  he  hadn't  been  gone 
a  day. 

Facts  are  facts,  and  Mr.  Tennyson  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  himself. 


AN  HOUR  AT  THE  CENTRAL  STATION  COURT. 


S  his  Honor  was  signing  the  warrants,  and  things 
around  the  room  were  being  put  to  rights,  a  small 
lad  with  sore  eyes  crept  under  the  rope  and  asked  Bijah 
if  he  had  any  chewing  tobacco  about  him. 

The  old  man's  amazement  prevented  him  from  speaking 
for  half  a  moment,  and  then  he  took  the  boy  by  the  collar, 
dropped  him  out  of  doors,  and  remarked : 

"  The  first  step  to  the  gallus  is  chewin'  terbacker,  and 
when  I  look  around  me  here  and 
observe  how  many  young  boys  are 
growing  up  in  vice  and  ignorance 
it  makes  my  flesh  crawl." 

"  Oh  !  take  some  worm-drops  !" 
replied  the  boy,  backing  off. 

"But,  come  here!"  called  the 
old  man,  forcing  a  smile,  "  come 
here  and  get  five  cents ;  come  and 
see  yer  old  father,  bub — come  and 
tell  me  who  ye  are  !" 

"  Take  me  for  a  flat?"  inquired 
the  boy,  crossing  the  street. 
Bijah  made  a  dash  for  him,  but 
after  striking  the  hydrant  with  his  foot  and  plowing  his 
way  through  a  lot  of  old  oyster  cans  he  gave  up  the  chase 
and  went  in  to  bide  his  time. 
131 


132  OUT    AND    IN. 

NO   MORE  FOREVER. 

"  William  Conway  Harrington,"  remarked  liis  Honor, 
as  the  first  man  balanced  at  the  mark,  "  my  speech  to  you 
will  consist  of  but  very  few  words,  though  you  want  to 
ponder  over  them  until  they  stand  out  on  your  memory 
like  red  paint  on  a  Greeley  hat.  You  are  charged  with 
having  kicked  your  wife  out  of  doors  and  smashed  up  the 
furniture." 

"  She  commenced  the  row,"  replied  William. 

"  William  Conway  Harrington,  listen  to  me,  continued 
the  court.  "  I  don't  care  a  button  how  the  fight  began, 
but  let  me  state  clearly  and  emphatically  that  if  you  are 
brought  here  again  on  any  such  charge  you'll  be  made  to 
wish  that  you  were  a  Hottentot." 

"  Well,  I'll  behave  myself,"  replied  the  prisoner,  trem- 
bling violently. 

"  Do,  sir ;  you  may  go  now.  Here's  your  hat  and  jack- 
knife,  and  that  door  will  let  you  out." 

''SHE'S   SORRY,    SIR,'' 
Tlemarked  Bijah  as  he  handed  out  Katie  Worden,  a  black- 
<cyed  girl  with  a  scar  on  her  nose. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  she  added  as  she  pushed  a  tear  from  under 
lier  eyelid. 

''  I  suppose  BO,"  mused  his  Honor.  "  The  ofiicer  says 
you  were  so  intoxicated  that  you  didn't  know  a  woodpile 
from  a  harness-shop,  and  that  you  created  a  good  deal  of 
trouble." 

"  Try  me — give  me  one  more  chance  !"  she  pleaded. 

"  Couldn't  do  it,"  he  replied.  "You've  been  here  twenty 
times  within  a  year,  and  it  is  time  you  understood  that  law 
can  be  clothed  in  the  fleece  of  a  lamb  or  the  skin  of  a 
tiger.  You've  come  here  once  too  often,  and  I  shall  make 
it  sixty  days." 


THE    ACIDITY    OF    JUSTICE. 


133 


"Oh!  Heav oh!  I  shall  taint— oh  ! " 

"Be  placid,  Miss  Worden,"  he  remarked.  "If  you 
should  fall  down  in  a  faint  Bijali  would  have  to  cut  your 
corset-strings,  throw  water  on  you  and  fan  you  \\dth  the 
dust-pan,  and  your  present  neat  and  tidy  appearance  would 
be  destroyed." 


Mm'y.'^f/', 


If  She  Had  Fainted. 

"  But  my  heart  beats  so  !"  she  wailed. 

"  Yes ;  well,  you  may  sit  down  on  the  half-bushel  meas- 
ure in  the  corridor  and  smell  of  the  carbolic  acid  jug.  It's 
a  favor  we  don't  grant  to  every  one,  but  I  want  you  to 
understand  that  it  is  a  stern  sense  of  justice  and  not  per- 
sonal malice  which  influences  me." 


''SING    ME   A    SONG,    MOTHER." 
While  the  broken-hearted   female  was  being  tenderly 
moved  away,  a  frank,  clear  voice  was  heard  singing : 

"  Down  among  the  cotton  blossoms, 
Down  among  the  sugar-cane. 
There  was  where  I  met  Lucinda, 
There's  where " 

"Put  that  boy  out!"  interrupted  his  Honor,  rising  up 
and  surve}ang  the  crowd  of  small  boys  behind  the  stove. 
Silence  followed. 


134  so    xMOEE    WHOOPS. 

The  boys  moved  uneasily. 

"Put  that  boy  out,  I  say  !"  shouted  the  Court. 

"  Please  sir,"  explained  a  chunk  of  a  boot-black,  step- 
ping forward,  "I  guess  its  wind  in  the  stove-pipe !" 

Bijah  came  out  with  a  sailor  at  this  juncture,  and  the 
source  of  the  harmonious  disturbance  was  soon  settled. 

"  Who's  this  Lucinda  you  were  singing  about  ?"  inquired 
his  Honor,  as  he  settled  back. 

"  It  was  only  a  song,  sir,"  explained  the  sailor,  shifting 
about  uneasily. 

"  "Well,  what  about  this  charge  of  drunkenness  ?" 

"  Blast  my  flukes  if  I  know." 

"  You  were  drunk — see  it  in  your  face.  What  do  you 
mean  by  such  conduct  ?" 

"  I  s'pose  I  fell  in  with  Jack,  and  Tom,  and  Bill,  and  got 
tight  afore  I  knew  it." 

"  Well,  I'll  make  you  get  up  and  climl)  for  not  attending 
to  your  own  business.     The  sentence  is  thirty  days." 

"  Wlioop  !"  exclaimed  the  sailor. 

"  That  calls  for  thirty  more  I"  replied  his  Honor. 

"  It  does,  eh  ? — M'hoop  !" 

"  I'll  make  it  three  months !" 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  Any  more  whoops  ?"  inquired  the  court. 

"  'Not  even  a  hoop-skirt !"  sadly  replied  the  sailor,  as  he 
walked  away. 

It  was  the  end. 


THE  EUREKY  RAT-TRAP. 


ilijE  boarded  the  boat  at  a  landing  about  a  hundred 
CW^  miles  above  Vicksburg,  having  two  dilapidated  but 
bulky-looking  satchels  as  luggage.  He  said  he  was  bound 
to  "  Orleans,"  and  when  the  clerk  told  him  what  the  fare 
would  be  he  uttered  a  long  whistle  of  amazement  and 
inquired : 

"  Isn't  that  pooty  steep  ?" 

"  Regular  figure,  sir,"  replied  the  clerk. 

"  Seems  like  a  big  price  for  just  riding  on  a  boat,"  con- 
tinued the  stranger. 

"  Come,  I'm  in  a  hurry,"  said  the  clerk. 

"  That's  the  lowest  figger,  eh  ?"  inquired  the  stranger. 

"  Yes — that's  the  regular  fare." 

"  'No  discount  to  a  regular  traveler  ?" 

"  We  make  no  discount  from  that  figure." 

"  Ye  wouldn't  take  half  of  it  in  trade  ?" 

"  I  want  your  fare  at  once,  or  we  will  have  to  land  you  !" 

"  Don't  want  a  nice  rat-trap,  do  ye,  stranger  ?"  inquired 
the  passenger,  "  one  which  sets  herself,  works  on  scientific 
principles,  allers  ready,  painted  a  nice  green,  wanted  by 
every  family,  warranted  to  knock  the  socks  ofl''n  any  other 
trap  ever  invented  by  mortal  man  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  want  the  money !"  replied  the  clerk,  in 
emphatic  tones. 

135 


136  AWAKE !    AWAKE ! 

"Ob,  wall,  I'll  pay,  of  course  I  will,"  said  the  rat-trap 
man  ;  "  but  tbat's  an  awful  figger  for  a  ride  to  Orleans,  and 
cash  is  cash  these  days." 

He  counted  out  the  fare  in  ragged  shin-plasters,  wound  a 
shoe-string  around  his  wallet  and  replaced  it,  and  then 
unlocked  one  of  the  satchels  and  took  out  a  wire  rat-trap. 
Proceeding  to  the  cabin,  he  looked  the  ground  over,  and 
then  waltzing  up  to  a  young  lady  who  sat  on  a  sofa  read- 
ing, he  began  : 

"  I  take  great  pleasure  in  presenting  to  your  attention 
the  Eureky  rat-trap,  the  best  trap  ever  invented.  It 
sets " 

"  Sir !"  she  exclaimed,  rising  to  her  feet. 

"  E"ame's  Harrington  Baker,"  he  went  on,  turning  the 
trap  around  on  his  outstretched  hand,  "  and  I  guarantee 
this  trap  to  do  more  square  killing  among  rats  than " 

She  gave  him  a  look  of  scorn  and  contempt,  and  swept 
grandly  away,  and  without  being  the  least  put  out  he 
walked  over  to  a  bald-headed  man  who  had  tilted  his  chair 
back  and  fallen  asleep. 

"  Fellow-mortal,  awakest  and  gaze  upon  the  Eureky  rat- 
trap,"  said  the  stranger,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  shiny 
pate  of  the  sleeper. 

"  Wh — who — what !"  exclaimed  the  bald-head,  opening 
his  eyes  and  flinging  his  arms  around. 

"  I  take  this  opportunity  to  call  your  attention  to  my 
Eureky  rat-trap,"  continued  the  new  passenger — "the 
noblest  Roman  of  them  all.  Try  one  and  you  will  use  no 
other.     It  is  constructed  on " 

"  Yv^io  in  thunder  do  you  take  me  for  ?"  exclaimed  the 
bald-headed  man  at  this  point.  "What  in  blazes  do  I 
want  of  your  rat-trap  ?" 

"  To  ketch  rats  !"  humbly  replied  the  stranger—"  to  clear 
yer  premises  of  one  of  the  most  obnoxious  pests  known  to 
man.     I  believe  I  am  safe  in  saying  that  this  'ere " 


ox    THE    I'UOiMENADE    DECK.  137 

"  Go  away,  sir — go  away,  or  I'll  knock  your  blamed  head 
oft'!"  roared  the  bald-head.  "■  AVhen  I  want  a  rat-traj)  I 
shan't  patronize  traveling'  vagabonds  !  Your  audacity  in 
daring  to  put  your  hand  on  my  head  and  wake  me  up 
deserves  a  caning !" 

"  Then  you  don't  want  a  trap  ?" 

"  No,  SIR  !"  yelled  l)al(l-hoad. 

"  I'll  make  you  one  mighty  cheap." 

"  I'll  knock  you  down,  sir !"  roared  bald-head,  looking 
around  for  his  cane. 

"  Oh,  wall,  I  ain't  a  starvin',  and  it  won't  make  much 
difference  if  I  don't  sell  to  you !"  remarked  the  stranger, 
and  he  backed  oft"  and  left  the  cabin  for  the  promenade 
deck. 

An  old  maid  sat  in  the  shadow  of  the  texas,  embroider- 
ing a  slipper,  and  the  rat-trap  man  drew  a  stool  up  beside 
her  and  remarked : 

"  Madam,  my  name  is  Baker,  and  I  am  the  inventer  of 
the  Eureky  rat-trap,  a  sample  copy  of  which  I  hold  here 
on  my  left  hand,  and  I  think  I  can  safely  say  that " 

"  Sir,  this  is  unpardonable !"  she  exclaimed,  pushing 
back. 

"I  didn't  have  an  introduction  to  ye,  of  course,"  he 
replied,  holding  the  trap  up  higher,  "  but  business  is  busi- 
ness you  know.  Let  me  sell  you  a  Eureky  trap  and  make 
ye  happy  for  life ;  I  warrant  this  trap  to " 

"  Sir,  I  shall  call  the  Captain  !"  she  interrupted,  turning 
pale  with  rage. 

"Does  he  want  a  trap  ?"  eagerly  inquired  the  man. 

"  Such  impudence  deserves  the  horsewhip !"  screamed 
the  old  maid,  backing  away. 

The  rat-trap  man  went  forward  and  found  a  Northern 
invalid,  who  was  so  far  gone  that  he  could  hardly  speak 
above  a  whisper. 


138  HE    HEARD    HIM. 

"  Ailing,  eh  ?"  queried  the  trapper. 

The  invalid  nodded. 

"  Wall,  I  won't  say  that  my  Eureky  rat-trap  will  cure 
ye,"  continued  the  man,  "  but  this  much  I  do  say,  and  will 
swear  to  on  a  million  Bibles,  that  it  climbs  the  ridge-pole 
over  any  immortal  vermin-booster  ever  yet  set  before " 

The  Captain  came  up  at  this  juncture,  and  informed  the 
inventor  that  he  must  quit  annoying  passengers. 

"  But  some  of  "em  may  want  one  o'  my  Eureky  traps," 
protested  the  man. 

"  Can't  help  it;  this  is  no  place  to  sell  traps." 

"  But  this  is  no  scrub  trap — none  o'  your  humbugs,  got 
up  to  swindle  the  hair  right  off  of  an  innocent  and  confid- 
ing public." 

"  You  hear  me — put  that  trap  up  !" 

"  I'll  put  it  up,  of  course ;  but  then,  I'll  leave  it  to  yer- 
self  if  it  isn't  rather  Shylocky  in  a  steamboat  to  charge  me 
the  reg'lar  figger  to  Orleans,  and  then  stop  me  from  passing 
my  Eureky  trap  out  to  the  hankerin'  public?" 


"THE   HEAD -WRITER. 


DTlT  was  early  in  the  morning  when  I  heard  a  great  puffing 
(sk  and  blowing  on  the  stairs,  and  pretty  soon  footsteps 
sounded  in  the  hall,  and  a  woman's  voice  said : 

"  Xow,  John  Quiney,  you  want  to  look  as  smart  as  you 
can !" 

The  next  moment  the  door  opened  and  a  big  fat  woman 
and  a  small  thin  boy  came  into  the  room.     She  gave  her 


"Is  THE  Head -Writer  In?" 

dress  a  shake,  snatched  the  boy's  hat  off,  and  then  looking 
at  me  she  inquired  : 

"  Is  the  head-writer  in  ?" 

"  He  is,  madam,"  I  replied. 

"  Be  you  him  ?"  she  asked. 

I  nodded. 

130 


140  JOHN    QUINCY. 

"  Oh !  dear !"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  sat  down  on  a  chair 
and  fanned  herself  with  her  handkerchief,  "  I  like  to  have 
never  got  up  stairs." 
I  smiled  and  nodded. 

"  You  see  that  boy  thar'  ?"  she  inquired,  after  awhile. 
"  Your   son,   I   suppose  ?"  I   answered — "  nice-looking 
lad." 

"  Yes,  he's  smart  as  a  fox.  There  isn't  a  thing  he  don't 
know.  Why,  he  isn't  but  eight,  and  he  composeys  poetry, 
writes  letters  and  plays  tunes  on  the  fiddle !" 
"  You  ought  to  be  proud  of  him,"  I  said. 
"  Wall,  we  kinder  hope  he'll  turn  out  well,"  she  answered. 
"  Come  up  here,  John  Quincy,  and  speak  that  piece  about 
that  boy  who  stood  on  the  busted  deck." 

"  I  won't !"  replied  the  boy  in  a  positive  tone. 
"  He's  a  little  bashful,  you  see,"  giving  me  an  apologeti- 
cal  smile.     "  He's  rid  fourteen  miles  this  morning,  and  he 
doesn't  feel  well,  anyhow ;  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was 
troubled  with  worums." 

"  Worms  be  blowed !"  replied  John  Quincy,  chewing 
away  at  his  hat. 

"  He's  awful  skeard  when  he's  among  strangers,"  she 
went  on,  "  but  he'll  git  over  it  in  a  short 
time.  Wliat  I  cum  in  for  was  to  see  if  you 
wouldn't  take  him  and  make  a  head-writer 
of  him." 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  a  durned  old  bald- 
headed  head -writer !"  said  John  Quincy, 
picking  his  teeth  with  my  scissors. 

"  The  young  never  knows  what's  good  for 
'em,"  she  went  on.  "He  wants  to  be  a 
preacher,  or  a  great  lawyer,  or  a  big  doctor,  but  he  seems 
to  take  to  writing,  and  we  thought  we'd  make  a  head- 
writer  of  him.     I  don't  s'pose  he'd  earn  over  five  or  six 


ANNOUNCING    THE    TERMS,  141 

dollars  and  board  a  week  for  the  first  year,  but  I've  bin  told 
that  Gen'ral  Jackson  didn't  git  lialf  that  when  he  begun  : 

"  Madam,"  I  commenced,  as  she  stopped  for  breath,  "  I'd 
like  to  take  the  boy.  He  looks  as  smart  as  a  steel  traw, 
and  no  doubt  he'll  turn  out  a  great  man." 

"  Then  you'll  take  him  ?" 

"  If  you  agree  as  to  terms." 

''  What  is  them  ter-ums  ?" 

"  You  see  my  left  eye  is  out  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  3'our  son  can  never  become  a  great  writer  unless 
you  put  his  left  eye  out.  If  you  will  think  back  you  will 
remember  that  you  never  saw  a  great  writer  whose  left  eye 
was  not  out.  This  is  a  matter  of  economy.  A  one-eyed 
writer  only  needs  lialf  as  much  light  as  a  man  with  two 
eyes,  and  he  isn't  half  so  apt  to  discover  hair-pins  in  his 
butter,  and  buttons  in  his  oyster  soup.  The  best  way  to 
put  his  eye  out  is  to  jab  a  red-hot  needle  into  it." 

"  Good  grashus  !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  And  you  observe  that  I  am  bald-headed  ?  You  may 
think  that  my  baldness  results  from  scalp  disease,  but  such 
is  not  the  case.  When  a  head-writer  is  bothered  to  get  an 
idea  he  scratches  his  head.  Scratching  the  hair  wouldn't 
do  an}'  good ;  it's  the  scalp  he  must  agitate.  The  hair  is 
therefore  pulled  out  with  a  pair  of  pincers,  in  order  that  a 
man  can  get  right  down  to  the  scalp  at  once,  and  save 
time." 

"  Can  that  be  possible  !" 

"  All  this  is  strictly  true,  madam.  You  also  observe  that 
one  of  my  legs  is  shorter  than  the  other.  Without  an 
explanation  on  m}'  part  you  would  attribute  this  to  some 
accident.  Such  is  not  the  case.  Every  head-writer  is 
located  in  the  fourth  story  of  the  office,  and  his  left  leg 
is  shortened  three  inches  to  enable  him  to  run  up  and  down 


142  HOW    THEY    STUFF    "eM. 

stairs.     You  will  have  to  have  a  doctor  unjoint  your  son's 
leg  at  the  hip,  saw  it  off  to  the  proper  length,  and  then 
hook  it  back  in  its  place." 
^  "  Did  I  ever  hear  the  likes  !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  And  you  also  observe,  madam,  that  two  of  my  front 
teeth  are  gone.  You  might  think  they  decayed,  but  such 
was  not  the  case.  They  were  knocked  out  with  a  crow- 
bar, in  order  to  enable  me  to  spit  ten  feet.  According  to 
a  law  enacted  at  the  last  session  of  Congress  any  head- 
writer  who  can't  spit  ten  feet  is  not  entitled  to  receive  Con- 
gressional reports  free  of  postage." 

"  Can  it  be  so  !"  she  said,  her  eyes  growing  larger  every 
moment. 

"  And  you  notice  my  corpulent  build  ?"  I  went  on,  "  you 
might  think  this  the  result  of  high  living,  but  it  is  not. 
Every  head-writer  of  any  prominence  has  one  of  these  big 
stomachs    on   him.     They   are   all   members   of  a   secret 

society,  and  they  tell 
each  other  outside  of 
the  lodge-room  in  this 
way.  I  am  naturally 
very  tall  and  thin,  but 
I  had  to  conform  to 
-.;!  the  rules.  They  cut 
a  hole  in  my  chest  and 
tilled  me  out  by  stuff- 
ing in  dry  Indian  meal.  It  took  two  bushels  and  a  peck, 
and  then  it  lacked  a  little  and  they  had  to  fill  up  with  oat- 
meal. N"ow  then,  madam,  you  see  what  your  son  must  go 
through  with,  and  I  leave  you  to  judge  whether  you  will 
have  him  learn  the  head-writer's  trade  or  not.     I  like  the 

looks  of  the  boy  very  much,  and  if  you  desire  to " 

'•'•I guess  loe'll  go  hmn!"  she  exclaimed,  lifting  herself  off 
the  chair.     "  I  kinder  want  him  to  be  a  head-writer,  and 


JOHN    QUINCY  S    PHILOSOPHY. 


143 


yit  I  tliink  I  ought  to  have  a  little  more  talk  with  his  father, 
who  wants  him  to  git  to  be  boss  in  a  saw-mill.  I'm  'bleged 
to  you,  and  if  wo  conclude  to  have  him " 

*'  Yes,  bring  him  right  in,  day  or  night.  The  first  thing 
^^dll  be  to  unhinge  his  left  leg  and !" 

But  they  were  out  in  the  hall,  and  I  heard  John  Quincy 
remark  : 

*'  Head-writer  be  blowed !" 


MRS.  DOLSON'S  AILMENTS. 


RS.  Dolson  lives  close  beside  us,  and  if 
Dolson  should  move  away,  we'd  be  truly 
i^  sorry.     She  knows  herbs,  drugs  and  medi- 
cines by  heart.     She  can  tell  you  just  what 
^  to  do  in  every  complaint,  from  a  sore  nose 
*^^^  ^  to  having  a  leg  taken  off  by  a  street  car, 
and  such  a  person  is  a  prize  which  any 
neighborhood  would  appreciate. 

Mrs.  Dolson  has  had  a  great  deal  of  experience  for  a 
woman  only  fifty  years  of  age.  She's  had  the  ague,  the 
chills,  the  itch,  the  hives,  chicken-pox,  scarlet  fever,  bilious 
fever,  small-pox,  pneumonia,  typhoid  fever,  asthma,  bron- 
chitis, lock-jaw,  toothache,  heart  disease,  and  any  other  dis- 
ease handy  to  think  of,  and  she  knows  just  what  to  do  in 
each  case.  I  was  thinking  of  her  the  other  day,  and  I  put 
up  a  little  job  on  her. 

I  rushed  over  and  pounded  on  her  door  just  after  she 
had  tucked  herself  away  beside  Dolson  for  the  night,  and 
when  she  raised  the  window  and  put  out  her  head,  I  said : 
"  Mrs.  Quad  is  awful  sick!" 
*'  La !  but  what  is  it  ?"  she  inquired. 
"  I'm  afraid  it's  the  philoprogenitiveness,"  I  replied. 
"  Dear  me  !"  if  she's  got  that  she'll  have  a  hard  time,  I'm 
afraid,"  said  the  old  lady  in  a  regretful  voice.     "  I  had  an 
attack  of  it  when  we  lived  in  Buffalo,  and  there  were  sev- 
144 


SOME    OTUEIl    COiMrLAINTS.  146 

enteen  niglits  when  Dolson  never  shut  his  eyes  to  sleep. 
You  must  soak  her  feet  and  put  mustard  plaster  on  the 
soles." 

"  It  may  not  be  that,"  I  went  on ;  "  I  think  the  symptoms 
rather  go  to  show  that  she  has  been  taken  with  retro- 
version." 

"  Then  it  will  be  a  severe  case  indeed !"  she  replied.  "  I 
remember,  when  my  oldest  daughter  was  a  baby,  I  had  an 
attack  of  it,  and  before  they  could  get  a  doctor  I  was  at  the 
point  of  death.  If  I  were  you  I'd  give  her  sage  tea,  and 
rub  on  pain-ldller,  and  if  she  wasn't  better  by  midnight, 
I'd  call  a  doctor." 

"  Did  you  ever  have  any  experience  in  cases  of  phyto- 
geny ?"  I  asked,  as  she  was  about  to  draw  in  her  head. 

"  Phytogeny  !  I  should  think  I  had !  Why,  it  wasn't 
two  weeks  ago  that  I  had  a  spell  on't,  and  I  thought  for 
about  half  an  hour  that  Dolson  was  going  to  be  a  widower 
before  sundown.  If  you  think  that  is  what  ails  her,  you'd 
better  give  her  a  whisky  sling  and  some  dry  ginger." 

"  Mrs.  Burbank  was  in  about  an  hour  ago,  and  she  said 
she  thought  all  the  symptoms  pointed  to  a  bad  case  of 
morsitation,"  I  went  on. 

"  Deary  me !  I  hope  not,"  answered  the  good  old  lady, 
sighing  heavily.  "  That's  what  Aunt  Jasen  Starkweather 
died  with.  She  was  taken  about  daylight,  and  was  a  corpse 
before  dinner  was  ready.  I  had  a  slight  touch  of  it  once, 
and  if  Dolson  hadn't  been  in  the  house  I  couldn't  have 
lived  two  hours.  If  I  was  you  I'd  give  her  some  grated 
ginsen  root  and  New  Orleans  molasses." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  as  I  backed  oft'  the  step,  "  I  hope  it  won't 
run  into  the  intuitionalism." 

"  Gracious  !  I  hope  so,  too,"  she  replied.  "  That's  what 
Deacon  Patchin's  wife  died  with.  I  was  there  visiting,  and 
she  was  taken  alone:  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 


146  THE   GOOD    OLD    SOUL. 

and  died  the  next  day.  Poor  thing!  I've  seen  a  good 
deal  of  suffering,  but  I  never  knew  any  one  to  toss  around 
as  she  did.  I  came  near  having  it  myself  last  May,  and  I 
know  how  to  pity  any  one  who  comes  down  with  it." 

She  drew  in  her  head,  and  I  went  home.  The  next 
morning  she  saw  me  at  the  gate,  and  when  I  told  her  that 
my  wife's  sickness  was  an  attack  of  the  intussusception, 
and  she  was  much  better,  Mrs.  Dolson  exclaimed  : 

"  Well,  now,  if  that  isn't  good !  If  she's  careful  she'll 
soon  be  up  again.  I've  had  it  three  or  four  times,  and  I 
always  keep  quiet  for  a  day  or  two,  and  diink  spearmint 
tea." 


CONFESSION  OF  A  MURDERER. 


BELIEVE  the  clock  was  just  striking  nine  in  the 
evening  when  he  knocked  at  the  door  and  sent 
^  K-  ^^  word  that  he  wanted  to  see  me.  I  went  out, 
^Iil!i#-  and  he  shook  hands  with  me  and  asked  if  all 
my  folks  were  usually  well.  When  I  had 
replied  that  such  was  the  case,  he  broke  out 
with: 

"  My  object  in  visiting  this  city  is  to  intro- 
duce to  public  notice  my  new  corn  remedy.     I 
^  have  traveled  over  Europe,  Asia,  Africa  and  the 

Holy  Land,  and  everywhere  I  have  met  with  the  most 

flat " 

He  got  that  much  out  before  I  could  stop  him.  Then  I 
laid  my  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  whispered  coldly  in  his 
left  ear : 

"  Mister  man !  if  you  have  any  desire  to  live  to  see  your 
family  grow  up  you  won't  be  seven  seconds  getting  out  of 
this  yard!" 

He  wasn't,  but  the  next  morning,  just  as  I  was  ready 
to  go  out,  he  called  again.  He  didn't  seem  to  have  any 
fear  in  his  nature,  for  as  soon  as  I  appeared  he  reached  out 
his  hand  and  inquired : 

"  May  I  hope  that  your  family  are  well  ?"    ' 

"  Yes,  blame  you !  you  can  hope  that  they  are  in  the 


Rhine,  if  you  want  to 


I  replied. 
147 


148  BEHIND    THE    SHANTY. 

"  My  dear  sir,  allow  me  to  call  your  attention  to  my 
newly-invented  salve  for  removing  corns,"  he  went  on.  "  I 
can  show  you  certificates  from  Queen  Victoria,  Abraham 

Lincoln,  Colonel  Forney,  Judge " 

I  stopped  him  there.  Tapping  him  on  the  shoulder,  I 
asked  him  if  he  didn't  know 
that  he  was  standing  over  a 
powder  magazine — on  the 
"brink  of  a  yawning  chasm — 
on  the  verge  of  death  ? 

He  seemed  a  little  paler 
as  he  walked  away,  and  I 
—^^=  ^^  thought  he  would  not  return. 
^  js  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
him  by  evening,  when  he 
called  again  and  informed  the  girl  that  he  must  see  me  on 
important  business.  I  went  out,  and  he  extended  his  hand 
and  wanted  to  know  if  I  thought  I  was  as  well  as  last  year 
at  that  time. 

I  collared  him  before  he  could  say  another  word,  and 
jelled  to  the  girl  to  bring  me  a  revolver  and  a  bowie-knife, 
"but  he  begged  so  hard  that  I  couldn't  have  the  heart  to 
kill  him.  He  promised  never  to  say  "  corn  remedy " 
within  two  blocks  of  the  house  again,  but  he  was  a  base 
liar.  Yes,  he  was.  He  was  back  there  next  day,  and  the 
next,  and  the  next,  and  finally  I  told  him  to  come  around 
into  the  back  yard  and  I  would  take  ten  gross  of  his 
remedy. 

"  I  knew  you  wanted  it !"  he  exclaimed,  but  his  cheer- 
fulness was  soon  cut  short. 

I  got  him  around  behind  the  shanty.  "We  were  alone 
together.  It  was  late  and  dark.  I  had  everything  fixed, 
and  he  didn't  sufier  much.  As  soon  as  he  found  out  that 
he  was  to  die  he  tried  to  soften  my  heart  by  telling  me 


IT   MUSSES    THE   YARD. 


149 


that  he  had  fourteen  wives  and  a  fond  children,  but  I 
wouldn't  have  spared  him  then  for  a  house  and  lot  in 
Chicago.       ********* 

*  *  He  fell  where  he 
died.  He  gasped  out  a 
few  broken  words,  but 
whether  they  were  a  re- 
quest to  bury  him  in  the 
garden,  or  some  farewell 
words  to  his  family,  I  do 
not  know. 

I  sometimes  wish  I 
had  spared  him ;  it  musses  up  a  back  yard  terribly  to  use 
it  for  a  slaughter-pen. 


THE  PERKINS  BABY. 


jTteN*  VERYBODY  said  lie  was  a  darling  for  the  first  year, 
(c^ir^and  I  guess  he  was.  Mrs.  Perkins  used  to  bring  him 
over  and  demand  my  adoration,  but  finally  when  I  got  out 
of  patience  and  told  her  that  I  had  been  the  father  of 
thousands  of  just  as  handsome  and  cunning  little  cherubs, 
she  became  indignant  and  refused  to  enter  my  house  or  let 
their  calf  play  with  my  goat. 

I  suppose  the  child  was  up  to  the  average.  It  was  their 
first,  and  Perkins  wasn't  so  much  to  blame  for  making  a 
fool  of  himself.  The  child  wasn't  three  days  old  before  its 
father  purchased  it  a  pair  of  boots,  a  straw  hat,  a  drum,  a 
base  ball  bat  and  other  things,  and  he  carried  a  grin  on  his 

face  which  would 
have  made  his  for- 
tune as  a  circus 
clown. 

I  knew  how  he'd 
catch  it,  but  I  said 
nothing.  It  wasn't 
many  days  before 
we  used  to  hear 
him   up    at    mid- 

IT  Always  Happens.  night,  shaking  the 

old  stove  around  and  butting  his  nose  against  the  doors, 

and  his  eyes   began  to  have  a  solemn  look.     Then  his 

mother-in-law,  two  brothers  and  their  families,  two  or  three 

150 


^;^  "'^  ^-^ 


..p^:^ 


THE  PERKINS  BABY. 


!■ 


THE    FATAL    JACK-KNIFE.  151 

uncles  and  aunts,  and  a  few  acquaintances,  paid  Perkins  a 

visit  to  see  the  baby,  and  when  they  filed  in  to  meals  it  was 

like  a  circus  procession. 

The  colic  season  came  on  after  the  baby  was  two  months 

old,  and  then  didn't  Perkins  catch  it !  The  baby  would 
be  sleeping  as  sweetly  as  an  alli- 
gator on  a  nmd-bank,  when  all  of 
a  sudden  the  colic  would  strike 
him,  and  he'd  yell : 

"Wlioop!  Whooooo!  I-hooo!" 

n'<r  ■'^'^^'f  \\/^'-\  They'd  turn  him  on  his  little 
nS  ^  %  y^  \\N  stomach,  loosen  his  bands,  rub 
'^        I  -^  V    •  .        j^-g  ]jq^q]^  ^jj^  ™^yg  ]^jj^  catnip  tea, 

"Thi  Old  Mak  Dreams." 

but  he  d  kick  and  claw,  and 
they'd  have  to  send  for  Perkins  and  the  doctor,  and  raise 
as  much  excitement  as  a  fire-alarm.  If  it  was  night  Per- 
kins would  have  to  leap  out  of  bed,  build  a  fire,  look  for 
ointments  and  liniments  and  soothing  syrups,  and  perhaps 
it  was  hours  before  he  got  to  bed  again. 

This  thing  went  on  until  everybody  in  the  neighborhood 
got  down  on  the  Perkins  angel,  and  didn't  care  whether  he 
lived  or  died.  When  he  was  a  year  old,  and  could  sit 
alone,  he  one  day  got  hold  of  his  father's  jack-knife.  They 
saw  him  biting  the  end  of  it,  but  they  didn't  see  him  push 
it  under  the  bureau.  He  was  hunting  around  for  some- 
thing else  when  a  fly  swooped  down  on  his  poor  head  and 
gave  him  a  bite  which  raised  him  a  foot  high.  He  yelled 
out  and  clawed  and  kicked,  and  Mrs.  Perkins  jumped  for 
him  and  cried  out : 

"  He's  went  and  swallered  that  'ere  jack-knife  !" 

Perkins  looked  around,  failed  to  see  the  knife,  noted  the 

red  face  and  flying  legs  of  his  child,  and  he  clapped  on  his 

hat  and  ran  for  the  doctor.     The  hired  girl  made  a  dash 

among  the  neighbors,  and  in  a  little  while  they  had  gath- 


152 


HOLD    HIM    UP 


ered  to  tlie  number  of  forty.  Tlie  child  had  got  mad  by 
this  time,  and  as  he  kicked  and  howled  and  grew  red  ISIrs. 
Perkins  clasped  her  hands  and  wailed : 

"  That  dreadful  jack-knife  is  working  among  his  blessed 
vitals !" 

Perkins  sat  down  in  a  tremble,  some  of  the  women  cried, 
and  a  fat  man  went  out  on  the  back  door-step  and  wiped 
the  tears  away  with  a  new  three-dollar  hat,  utterly  regard- 
less of  expense. 

"  Hold  the  young  'un  up  !"  yelled  one. 

"Pat  him  on  the  back!"  screamed  another. 

"  Turn  him  over !"  squealed  old  Mrs.  Johnson. 

And   they   held 


that  boy  up  by  one 
leg  and  swung  him 
this  way  and  that. 
They  flung  him  on 
the  lounge  and 
rolled  him  over 
and  over,  mauling 
him  in  the  back 
with  their  fists,  and 
_  he  made  the  neigh- 

they  Held  Him  Up.  borhood  ring  with  his 

bowls.  Finally  the  doctor  arrived,  and  he  put  the  boy  on 
the  table  and  pinched  his  ribs  and  rubbed  his  stomach  and 
tried  to  count  his  pulse. 

"  I  think  the  knife  rests  right  here,"  he  said,  placing  his 
hand  on  the  baby's  stomach. 

"  'Spose'n  it  should  open  and  commence  to  whittle  away 
on  his  vitals  !"  wailed  Mrs.  Perkins. 

"  Hand  me  mustard,  and  tepid  water,  and  salt,  and  some 
pills,  and  strong  coffee,  and  chloroform !"  answered  the 
doctor. 


IT  didn't  seem  possible.  153 

Then  they  held  that  boy  and  filled  him  up  with  stuff, 
and  rubbed  and  pounded  him  some  more,  and  as  he  clawed 
around  and  kicked  old  Mrs.  Frazer  in  the  nose  they  said  it 
was  convulsions,  contortions  and  dying  agonies.  They 
wore  the  hair  off  his  head  before  they  got  through  with 
him,  and  the  doctor  said  that  he  would  have  to  either  cut 
him  open  and  take  the  jack-knife  out  with  a  pair  of  tongs, 
or  see  the  innocent  die,  when  Mrs.  Gregory's  tow-headed 
boy,  who  was  prowling  around,  discovered  the  jack-knife 
under  the  bureau.  Then  the  doctor  got  red  in  the  face, 
Perkins  jumped  over  the  table,  and  the  old  women  wiped 
their  eyes  and  remarked  : 

"  It  didn't  seem  possible  that  Providence  was  going  to 
take  the  little  darling  away!" 


HOW  A  WOMAN  MAKES  A  BED. 


HE'S  washed  the  dishes,  cleared  off  the 
f  table,  swept  out  the  sitting-room,  and  she 
stands  in  the  bed-room  door  for  a  moment, 
arms  akimbo,  and  surveys  the  bed. 

The  pillows  are  skewed  around,  the 

quilts  rolled  up  in  a  heap,  one  end  of 

the  sheet  down  almost  to  the  floor,  and 

she  wonders  how  "  them  young  ones  '* 

managed  to  tumble  up  the  bed  so. 

She  approaches  the  bed,  seizes  the  pillows  and 
deposits  them  on  a  chair,  hauls  the  quilts  off  and  drops 
them  in  the  door- way,  draws  the  sheets  over  the  stand,  and 
she  finds  the  feather-tick  full  of  lumps  and  dents  and  hills 
and  hollows.  She  makes  a  lunge  for  it,  rolls  it  to  the  foot 
of  the  bed,  and  dives  down  among  the  straw. 

Her  hands  are  lost  to  sight,  and  she  bends  over  until  it 
seems  as  if  her  back  would  break.  The  straw  is  pulled 
this  way,  pushed  that,  dragged  around  and  torn  apart,  and 
her  fingers  reach  clean  to  the  bottom  and  into  each  corner. 
"  There  !  ha !"  she  says,  as  she  straightens  up  to  rest  her 
back;  and  after  a  moment  she  grabs  the  feather-tick,  yanks 
it  around,  gives  it  a  flop  and  rolls  it  against  the  head-board 
that  she  may  get  into  the  foot  of  the  straw-tick.  She  dives 
into  the  straw  once  more,  and  her  face  gets  as  red  as  paint 
as  her  nose  almost  touches  the  tick.  The  straw  is  finally 
164 


WHERE    SHE   FAILED.  155 

stirred  enougti,  and  she  rests  lier  back,  looks  up  to  the  ceil- 
ing and  wonders  where  she  can  borrow  a  white-wash  brush. 
Then  it  would  do  jour  heart  good  to  see  her  grab  the 
feather-bed.  She  hauls  it  around,  flings  it  up,  mauls  great 
dents  in  it  with  her  fists,  jams  it  against  the  wall  and  finally 
flattens  it  out.  Then  she  seizes  the  foot,  shakes  the  feath- 
ers toward  the  head,  smooths  them  along  further  with  her 
hand,  and  each  corner  is  patted  down  and  made  to  stand 
out  distinctly.  That  hollow  in  the  center  is  patted  out  of 
existence,  and  at  last  the  bed  is  a  true  slant  from  head  to 
foot.  The  top  sheet  is  switched  ofl:'  the  stand,  held  up 
before  her  until  she  sees  the  seam,  then  she  flies  it  across 
the  bed.  It  settles  down  just  as  true  and  square  as  a  rule, 
and  after  the  front  side  has  been  tucked  down  behind  the 
rail  the  other  sheet  follows. 

The  pillows  are  then  grabbed  up,  mauled  and  beaten  and 
cufted  around  until  they  swell  with  indignation,  and  they 
are  dropped  on  to  the  bed  so  gently  that  they  don't  make 
a  dent,  but  seem  to  float  in  the  air  above  the  sheets.  The 
ends  where  the  cases  button  are  placed  to  go  outside, 
according  to  long  established  rule,  and  the  quilts  are  swung 
over,  tucked  behind  the  rail,  pulled  down  at  the  foot, 
smoothed  at  the  head,  and  she  stands  back  and  says : 

"There!  those  children  will  sleep  like  bugs  to-night!" 

A  few  weeks  ago,  as  I  stood  in  the  post-office,  I  heard  one 
female  say  to  another : 

"  Did  you  hear  about  poor  Mrs.  Gleason  ?" 

"  No — sick  ?"  was  the  query. 

"  Poor  thing — died  last  night." 

"  Is  that  so  ?"  was  the  exclamation.  "  "Well,  I'm  sorry, 
though  she's  better  off.  She  was  a  good  wife,  but  she 
could  never  make  up  a  bed  as  it  ought  to  be  made." 


"BRixs; 


tT  may  be  lonesome  out  on  the  broad  prairie  wben  tbe 
shadows  of  night  fall  and  dance  and  weave  about  and 
wreathe  themselves  into  forms  which  the  lone  hunter  may 
take  for  enemies  seeking  his  life.  The  big  farm-house 
may  seem  tomb-like  when  evening  has  grown  to  midnight 
and  sleep  has  closed  every  eye,  and  the  watch-dog  growls 
at  the  wind  softly  moving  the  branches  of  the  locust  tree 
at  the  gate.  But,  when  the  heart  of  a  great  city  ceases 
to  beat — when  night  has  swept  the  streets  as  if  a  plague 
were  abroad,  and  the  flag-stones  ring  out  sharp  echoes  of 
the  lightest  foot-fall,  there  is  something  so  lonely,  so  solemn, 
that  the  pedestrian  cannot  carry  one  single  cheerful 
thought.  Nothing  can  be  more  lonely,  no  shadows  can  be 
deeper  or  more  menacing. 

I  came  across  them  as  I  hurried  along  at  midnight — a 
queer  old  man  with  trembling  voice,  and  a  gaunt  woe-be- 
gone  dog.  I  heard  them  talking  in  a  stair- way — a  dark 
spot  from  which  the  lonely  shadows  sallied  forth  to  dance 
around  the  dim  gas  lamps  and  creep  after  belated  pedes- 
trians. "With  one  hand  on  the  iron  railing,  wishing  to  go 
nearer,  but  deterred  by  the  shining  orbs  of  the  dog,  I  stood 
and  heard  the  old  man  say  : 

"  Brixs,  put  your  paw  in  my  hand !  There,  that  way. 
Do  you  know,  Brixs,  that  I'm  going  away  ?" 

The  dog  whined  and  moved  uneasily. 

"  Yes,  dog — going  to  set  out  on  a  long  journey,  and  I've 
156 


GROWN    OLD   TOGETHER.  157 

£^ot  to  leave  jou  beliind.  You've  been  more  than  a  friend, 
Brixs ;  you've  followed  me  along  the  road,  up  and  down 
the  streets,  through  the  alleys,  and  you've  been  the  same 
dog  day  after  day." 

The  dog  uttered  a  low  bark,  as  if  he  understood,  and  the 
old  man  continued : 

"  We've  both  grown  old.  Gray  hairs  have  come  to  my 
head,  weakness  to  my  limbs,  and  your  coat  is  faded  and 
you  are  lame  and  stiff.  We  never  had  a  quarrel,  and  I 
never  gave  you  a  cross  w^ord,  and  I'm  free  to  say  I'd  rather 
die  ^^^th  your  face  close  to  mine  than  to  have  a  hundred 
friends  weeping  around  my  death-bed  !" 

The  old  man  was  lying  on  the  landing,  his  head  pillowed 
on  one  of  the  iron  stairs,  and  the  dog  stood  over  him  and 
caressed  him. 

"Poverty,  hunger,  ingratitude,  rags,  heart-aches  and 
bruises  have  been  our  lot,"  continued  the  old  man,  "  but 
the  end  is  here — for  me.  They'll  find  me  dead,  and 
there'll  be  no  hand  to  protect  you.  You'll  be  driven  away, 
beaten  and  starved,  and  they'll  call  you  a  dog.  I  know 
better,  but  I  won't  be  here.  It  has  been  the  road-side  one 
night,  the  barn  the  next,  a  stair-way  or  the  commons  the 
next  for  these  long  years  past,  but  you  haven't  complained. 
Is'o,  Brixs,  you've  put  up  with  everything,  borne  your  full 
share,  and  if  they  only  knew  how  I  loved  you  they'd  bury 
us  both  in  one  grave !" 

The  dog,  standing  with  his  paws  on  his  master's  breast, 
uttered  a  long,  mournful  howl,  and  the  shadows  seemed 
to  catch  the  echoes  and  carry  them  up  and  down  the  dark 
stairs. 

"  ISTobody'll  care  for  me,  Brixs — no  one  but  you.  They'll 
find  the  corpse,  say  that  another  old  man  is  dead,  and  in 
an  hour  I'll  be  boxed  and  buried  and  forgotten.  You  can't 
speak — ^you  can't  do,  and  'twould  be  useless  if  you  could. 


158  AROUND   THE   CORNER. 

The  poor  and  the  old  have  no  business  here — no  right  in 
the  world!" 

The  dog  nestled  down  to  the  old  man's  face  and  uttered 
a  piteous  whine. 

"  I  know  your  heart  aches,"  said  the  old  man,  and  "mine 
aches,  too.  We're  old ;  we've  been  fast  friends,  until  I'd 
feel  like  murdering  one  who'd  harm  a  hair  of  your  body. 
I'm  not  running  away  from  you — I'm  only  dying!  I'm 
getting  rid  of  these  hurts  and  bruises  and  limps — these 
gray  hairs  and  trembling  limbs — these  heart-aches  and 
sorrows  and  wanderings.  The  human  soul  does  not  die, 
Brixs,  and  I  believe  that  the  door  which  opens  to  me  will 
swing  back  for  you  !  You've  been  faithful  and  true,  and 
that's  what  no  human  being  ever  was !" 

The  dog  raised  his  head,  and  his  howl  was  so  full  of 
grief  and  loneliness  that  I  hurried  away,  racing  with  the 
shadows  to  see  who  should  pass  the  corner  first. 

When  I  passed  the  stair-way  next  morning  a  dog  sat  on 
the  curb-stone,  looking  anxiously  into  the  face  of  every 
passer-by.  It  was  Brixs.  They  had  found  a  dead  body  on 
the  landing — the  corpse  of  an  old  man. 

Brixs  was  alone  in  the  world,  and  the  world  had  not  one 
kind  word  for  him.  I  called  to  him,  but  he  disappeared 
around  the  corner,  moving  slowly — walking  like  a  human 
being  who  had  not  one  hope  left. 


THE  LAST  WARRIOR. 


'"      "^^  HAVE  just  returned  from  interview- 

tho    last   Indian  warrior  loft   in 

Michigan.      I   feel   sad.      Once   they 

'ere  plenty — now  they  are  scarce. 

Less  than  a  hundred  years  ago 

the  forests  echoed  the  whoops  of 

,;.^\r^^  ^^W^        ;      thousands  of  noble  red  men,  and 

.1  ^    /(^V^^^       [      the  valleys  were  dotted  with  their 

lodges. 

IlTow  there  is  nary  whoop. 
And  nary  lodge. 
I  found  the  last  warrior  propped 
up   against  a  coal-shed  near  the 
river — the  river  which  was  once  cov- 
ered with  the  canoes  of  his  ancestors, 
and  which  sang  soft,  sad   songs  in  the 
ears  of  the  sleeping  Indian  babes. 
He  didn't  seem  inclined  to  talk.     Perhaps   his 
mind  was  overburdened  with  the  bitter  memories  of  the 
past,  and  he  was  only  waiting  for  the  shadow  of  death 
to  come  and  touch  him  and  gather  him  to  the  happy 
hunting-grounds  of  his  fathers. 

"  licnowned  Wild  IIoss,  Big  Moon,  Setting  Sun,  Roar- 
ing Chipmunk,  Howling  Rabbit,  or  whatever  your  name 
is,  don't  you  feel  sad  ?"  I  asked  as  I  stood  before  him. 

He  didn't  say. 

159 


160  wouldn't  even  sigh. 

"  When  you  remember  back  and  realize  that  the  great 
and  powerful  tribe  of  Wyandottes  once  camped  on  this 
spot,  and  that  five  thousand  warriors,  more 
or  less,  roamed  and  howled  and  got  up  and 
dusted  through  this  neighborhood  in  search 
of  scalps — when  you  remember  that  the 
smoke  of  Injun  camp-fires  once  made  this  ^„„AA' 
whole  State  look  dim — when  you /^^  'N;''Vif\^' 
remember  that  every  glade  had  its  ^iMj  ^^h'^) 
score  of  lodges,  and  that  squaws  ~  ^^  -^ 
picked  strawberries  in  every  val-  ^-Hw^  '^ 
ley — when  you  remember  all  this, ' Xp;^-^' 
doesn't  it  make  tears  come  to  your  ^^'^.^  <^ 
eyes?" 

He  wouldn't  compromise  himself    waiti>g  to  be  gathered. 
by  answering. 

"  Wliere  now  is  Pontiac  ?"  I  asked — "  where  is  Okemos, 
Tall  Cedar,  Three -fingered  Jack,  Humped -back  Sam, 
Awful  Charley,  and  the  score  of  other  great  chiefs  who 
once  had  to  hire  an  express  wagon  to  haul  their  crop  of 
scalps  around  the  country  ?     Where  are  they  ?" 

He  didn't  even  sigh. 

"  Where  are  the  thirty  thousand  warriors  who  once  gath- 
ered around  the  council  fires  and  felt  their  back  hair  crawl- 
ing up  as  some  four-horse  chief  took  the  center  of  the 
circle  and  promised  them  gallons  of  gore  and  barrels  of 
scalps?  Where  are  they?  Ask  the  sighing  pines,  the 
murmuring  river  or  the  setting  sun !  Do  you  hear  their 
voices  any  more?  Do  you  know  where  their  bones  are 
fading  to  dust  ?" 

"Sir,  the  smoke  of  your  camp-fires  no  longer  curl 
through  the  beeches.  The  wild  fox  digs  his  den  where 
once  your  council-fires  blazed  fiercely.  The  white  man's 
dog  plays  with  the  bloody  tomahawk  of  your  high-nosed 


IT   rS    REALLY   SAD.  161 

grandpa,  and  tlie  farmer  yells  :  'Haw  Buck — gee  Bright!' 
in  the  valleys  where  the  smoke-stained  Injun  ladies  once 
played  croquet.  Your  glory  has  faded.  You  can't  hold  a 
candle  to  the  white  man.     Don't  you  feel  a  goneness  ?" 

Only  echo  answered. 

"  You  are  the  last  of  your  race,  mister  man — the  last  red 
warrior  in  Michigan.  After  a  few  moons  more — after  the 
sun  rises  and  sets  on  a  few  more  days — you  will  be  gath- 
ered home — collected  at  a  mass  convention  of  your  party 
friends  in  the  hunting-grounds  set  aside  for  scalp-takers  in 
the  land  beyond  the  skies.  Then  the  beech  tree  will  whis- 
per to  the  pine,  the  pine  will  sigh  to  the  hill-top,  and  the 
hill-top  vnW  bow  its  head  and  ask  the  gurgling  streamlet 
where  the  red  children  of  the  forest  have  fled  to.  It's 
awful  sad  to  think  of  it — I  could  weep  for  you.  Won't 
you  give  me  your  candid  o})inion  on  these  things  ?" 


HIS  TROUBLES  WITH  KEFRIGERATORS. 


SUPPOSE  I  have  had  more  trouble  witli  refrigerators 
than  any  other  man  in  the  West,  and  it  has  not  been 
my  fault,  either.  I  can  recall  every  one  I  ever  had,  and 
can  distinctly  remember  what  happened  to  them.  The 
first  one  was  called  "  The  Arctic  Star."  The  agent  followed 
me  four  miles  on  a  hot  day,  while  giving  me  its  freezing 
points,  and  I  took  it  more  to  reward  his  industry  than  any- 
thing else.  I  looked  high  and  low  that  night  for  some- 
thing to  put  in  that  refrigerator,  and  only  succeeded  in 
getting  hold  of  ten  cents  worth  of  radishes,  which  I  under- 
took to  preserve  on  twenty-five  cents  worth  of  ice.  I  got 
up  early,  opened  the  doors  and  found  a  cat  seated  on  the 
shelf,  wiping  the  sweat  oft'  her  brow 
with  her  hind  feet.  She  didn't  say 
anything,  nor  did  I,  but  we  both  did 


went  out  of  doors  after  breakfast. 
I  didn't  i^ropose  to  open  any  con- 
veniences for  wearied  cats  around 
,  my  house. 

The  weakied  Cat,  The  ucxt  was  Called  the  "Frigid 

Iceberg."  I  told  the  agent  that  I  had  always  supposed 
icebergs  were  as  limber  as  strings,  but  he  replied  that  the 
name  didn't  make  any  difterence  with  the  box,  and  put  on 
a  frigid  look  himself.  The  box  was  a  fine-looking  affair, 
four-holes-full-jeweled,  with  a  fine  brass  door-knob  which 
162 


STILL    AILING.  IGo 

flowed  and  winked  in  the  sun  like  a  midnight  lamp.  It 
had  just  begun  to  be  a  success,  when  the  servant  girl,  who 
had  that  day  received  a  letter  from  her  William  stating 
that  his  aftections  were  on  the  wane,  went  up  into  the  sec- 
ond story  of  the  box  and  took  poison,  and  she  was  dead 
when  we  found  her.  The  sight  of  the  box  was  so  mourn- 
ful that  it  had  to  go  out  of  the  house.  Poor  girl !  she  was 
very  scrupulous  in  her  habits,  and  would  have  chosen  some 
other  place  if  her  mind  had  been  free  from  trouble.  The 
agent  was  rather  put  out  when  I  told  him  that  the  body 
didn't  get  cold  for  five  hours,  and  he  remarked  that  the  ice 
of  the  present  day  wasn't  the  ice  of  years  ago,  which  was 
a  very  graphic  remark. 

The  next  one  was  called  the  "  Greenland  Hyperborean." 
It  was  w^arranted  to  save  ten  per  cent  in  fuel,  fifteen  per 
cent  in  oil,  and  I  don't  know  how  much  more,  but  remem- 
ber that  the  agent  warranted  it  to  have  taken  twelve 
thousand  medals  at  State  fairs,  and  a  few  certificates  at 
other  doings.  Joe  Coburn  said  it  was  the  best  "  box  "  he 
ever  saw,  and  Jem  Mace  declared  that  he  wouldn't  have 
anything  else  in  his  house.  The  box  was  very  handsome, 
having  a  carved  center  board  and  green  bulwarks.  I  tried 
the  pumps  one  morning  and  found  she  was  making  water 
very  fast,  having  sprung  a  leak  somewhere,  and  directly  she 
went  down — down  oft'  the  back  steps,  and  I  got  licked 
while  trying  to  convince  the  agent  that  his  peculiar  forte 
was  selling  lightning  rods. 

The  next  one  was  callen  the  "  Icicle."  The  agent  kept 
me  up  most  of  the  night  to  expatiate  on  the  merits  of  the 
box,  and  I  fell  asleep  while  he  was  talking,  and  dreamed  I 
had  found  the  North  Pole.  He  warranted  it  to  save  half 
the  soap  in  washing,  and  asserted  that  the  clothes  wouldn't 
need  any  rubbing  by  using  his  process,  which  was  to  h 
the  garments  on  the  roof  of  the  box.    He  was  right.    Th 


ang 
e 


164 


A    HARD    RUB. 


clotlies  hadn't  hung  there  half  of  the  first  night  before 
there  weren't  any  left  to  ruh,  tlie  box  being  in  the  summer- 
kitchen,  where  the  agent's  friends  coukl  find  it. 


TlIK    NkW    rROCESS. 

The  next  Iwx  had  but  one  bay-window,  and  I  couldn't 
keep  it  and  move  with  the  ton ;  the  next  agent  refused  to 
put  my  monogram  on  the  lid,  and  it  consequently  wasn't 
in  style.  The  next  one  was  haunted  by  the  ghost  of  a  car- 
penter who  fell  and  broke  his  neck  while  putting  the  slate 
on  the  third  story,  and  something  or  other  ailed  every  box 
until  now  I  don't  have  one,  though  an  agent  is  after 
me  to  purchase  the  "Alaska  Cave,"  which  has  coupons  on 
it  that  draw  semi-annual  interest,  and  won't  explode  even 
if  turned  bottom-side  up. 


HOW  A  WOMAN   SPLITS  WOOD. 


SoOBEN'SOK  was  notified  by  his  better  half,  the  other 
~if^  da}',  that  the  wood-pile  had  been  reduced  to  one  oki 
chunk,  but  he  caught  the  panic  down  town  and  failed 
to  send  up  a  replenishing  load.  Just  before  noon  Mrs. 
Robinson  hunted  up  the  axe  and  went  for  the  lone  chunk. 
She  knew  that  a  woman  could  split  wood  as  well  as  a  man ; 
she  had  read  and  heard  about  woman's  awkwardness,  but 
she  knew  'twas  all  nonsense. 

She  spit  on  her  hands  and  raised  the  axe  over  her  left 
shoulder,  right  hand  lowest  down  on  the  handle.  She 
made  a  terrific  blow,  and  the  axe  went  into  the  ground  and 
she  fell  over  the  chunk.     She  got  up  and  looked  all  around 

to  see  if  anybody  was  watch- 
ing, rubbed  her  elbows  and 
then  took  up  the  axe  the 
other  way.  She  meant  to 
strike  the  stick  plumb-cen- 
ter, but  she  forgot  the  clothes 
line  above  her  head,  and  the 
axe  caught  it,  jerked  up  and 
down,  and  Mrs.  Robinson 
went  over  the  ash-heap.  She 
rose  up  with  less  confidence 
"Darn  it  to  Texas!"  in  her  cyc,  and  the  boys  play- 

ing in  the  alley  heard  some  one  softly  say:     "Darn  it  to 
TexasI"   but   of  course  it   wasn't   Mrs.    Robinson.      She 
165 


166  AND    YET    TUEY    WOULD    VOTE. 

miglit  liave  moved  the  stick  a  little,  but  she  didn't.  She 
went  in  and  got  a  chair  and  stood  upon  it  to  take  down 
the  clothes-line,  then  she  coiled  it  up  and  hung  it  in  the 
shed,  and  came  back  and  surveyed  the  chunk  and  turned 
it  over  and  walked  around  it. 

The  clothes-line  was  to  blame,  and  now  there  was  noth- 
ing to  interfere.  She  got  the  axe,  raised  it  once  or  twice, 
and  finally  gave  an  awful  blow.  It  chipped  oiF  a  sliver 
and  was  buried  in  the  ground,  and  the  knob  on  the  handle 
knocked  the  breath  out  of  her.  She  gasped  and  coughed 
and  jumped  up  and  down,  and  the  boys  heard  some  one 
say :  "'If  I  had  that  man  here  I'd  mop  the  ground  with 
him,  I  would !"  After  awhile  she  grew  calmer  and  picked 
up  the  axe  to  see  if  she  had  injured  it.  She  hadn't,  and 
she  smoothed  down  the  handle,  spit  on  the  edge  and  finally 
went  in  and  got  a  rind  and  greased  it,  suddenly  remem- 
bering that  no  axe  was  worth  a  cent  without  greasing.  By 
and  by  she  was  ready.  She  sat  the  chunk  on  end,  put  a 
stone  behind  it  and  then  surveyed  it  from  all  sides.  She 
had  it  now  just  where  she  wanted  it.  She  looked  all 
around  to  see  if  any  of  the  meddling  neighbors  were  look- 
ing, and  then  she  raised  the 
axe.  She  would  hit  the 
stick  just  in  the  center  and 
lay  it  open  at  one  blow. 
She  put  out  one  foot,  drew 
a  long  breath,  and  then 
brought  down  the  axe  with 
a  "Ha!"  just  as   she   had 


^/' 


"Angels  IN  THE  Air,"  seen  Eobiusou  do.    The  axc 

went  off  the  handle  and  the  handle  struck  the  stick.  So  did 
Mrs.  Eobinson.  She  thought  she  saw  angels  in  the  air : 
and  her  nose  was  "barked"  and  several  teeth  were  loosened 
until  they  seemed  half  an  inch  too  long. 


SHE    AVOOD    AND    SHE    M'OULDN't.  167 

"When  she  rose  up  slie  determined  to  butcher  Tlobinson 
the  moment  he  appeared.  Then  she  concluded  she  would 
not  butcher  him  at  once,  but  torture  him  to  death  and  be 
two  days  about  it.  After  getting  into  the  house  and  put- 
ting a  sticking-plaster  on  her  knee  and  some  lard  on  her 
elbow,  she  concluded  to  only  wound  Robinson  in  the 
shoulder  with  the  butcher-knife. 

After  pinning  up  the  tear  in  her  dress  and  getting  a 
piece  of  court-plaster  for  her  nose,  she  went  and  borrowed 
some  wood,  and  hearing  while  on  the  way  home  that  Mrs. 
Prindle  suspected  that  Miss  Spindle  was  going  to  wear  her 
last  year's  cloak  through  another  winter,  the  good  woman 
concluded  to  let  Robinson  off  entirely  and  tell  him  that 
she  hurt  her  nose  falling  down  cellar. 


'@^ 


FAT  FOLKS. 


fLIKE  fat  folks.  There's  something  jolly  right  in  the 
fact  of  one's  being  a  great  big  porpoise,  and  you  never 
saw  a  fat  man  or  woman  but  what  was  good-natured, 
unless  disappointed  in  love.  I  often  wish  I  stood  in  Baker's 
shoes.  He  weighs  two  hundred  and  eighty,  and  when  seen 
coming  down  the  street  he  resembles  a  sloop  under  full 
sail.  When  he  enters  a  street-car  everybody  shoves  along 
at  once,  and  if  it's  crowded,  two  or  three  men  will  get  up 
and  offer  him  their  seats.  He  is  of  importance  wherever 
he  goes.  If  he  sits  on  an  inquest  he  influences  the  jury, 
and  if  he  predicts  the  weather  people  put  faith  in  him.  K 
there's  a  crowd  around  a  sick  horse,  Baker  elbows  his  way 
right  in  where  I  couldn't  get,  and  they  are  always  sure  to 
make  him  cashier  at  Sunday-school  excursions,  send  him 
invitations  to  deliver  Fourth  of  July  orations,  and  he  is  the 
man  always  selected  to  present  the  fire  company  with  new 
hats  and  a  speech. 

And  there's  Mrs.  Scott,  who  weighs  nearly  as  much 
as  Baker.  Wlien  it's  a  hot  day  everybody  asks  after 
her  comfort,  and  when  it's  a  cold  day  everybody  congratu- 
lates her  on  being  fat.  She  was  made  the  president  of  a 
benevolent  society,  the  treasurer  of  an  art  association,  and 
the  "  head-man  "  in  a  monument  enterprise,  just  because 
she  was.  fat  and  "  could  fill  the  chair  "  better  than  any  lean 
woman.  K  she  went  aboard  the  ferry-boat  they  always 
placed  her  in  the  center  of  the  cabin  in  the  best  arm-chair 
168 


SECTION    ONE, 


169 


aboard,  so  that  she  couhl  not  careen  the  craft  over,  and  if 
forty  lean  women  hung  over  the  railing  to  starboard  or 
port,  nothing  was  ever  said  or  cared  about  it.  She  had  the 
biggest  tent  at  camp-meeting,  the  best  place  to  see  the 
Fourth  of  July  tire-works,  and  grocers  were  always  send- 
ing her  early  strawberries  and  first  vegetables. 

I  fell  in  love  with  a  fat  girl  once.  I  loved  madly,  because 
I  was  loving  two  hundred  and  seven  pounds  of  girl.  She 
was  amiable,  tender-hearted,  good-natured  and  true,  and  I 
think  she  loved  me.  "We  were  to  be  married  in  the  fall, 
and  I  should  probably  have  been  one  of  the  happiest  of 
husbands,  when  an  accident  dashed  my  prospects.      She 

fell  overboard  just  as  we 
were  about  to  leave  the 
wharf  on   a  steamboat 
=-  excursion.    Four  or  five 
^Z  .sailors    plunged    after, 
and   they  got   a  gang- 
plank under  her,  a  cable 
around  her  waist,  and 
-  -     -  -  ■_.  ===::_.  towed  her  to  the  wharf. 

Then  they  rigged  a  derrick  and  lifted  her  out  by  sections, 
but  they  were  so  long  about  it  that  she  took  a  severe  cold, 
and  the  result  was  death.  There  were  months  and  months 
after  that  that  I  never  could  pass  a  load  of  hay  without 
thinking  of  my  lost  Amanda  and  shedding  tears;  and  even 
to  this  day  I  can't  see  an  elephant  or  a  rhinoceros  without 
her  dear  \isage  rising  up  before  me. 


EPITAPHS  AND  SUCH. 


fTOOK  a  walk  through  the  cemetery  yesterday,  and  I 
have  been  in  a  brown  study  ever  smce.     Cushman's 
tombstone  stands  up  there  a  foot  above  all  the  rest, 
and  on  it  I  read : 

"  Let  us  meet  him  in  Heaven." 

I  don't  know  who  ordered  that  epitaph,  but  I  used  to 
live  beside  Cushman.  Many's  the  time 
I  kept  him  from  pounding  his  wife  when 
he  was  drunk,  and  I  went  bail  for  him 
when  he  stole  a  horse  and  wagon,  and 
was  on  the  jury  which  sent  him  to  State 
Prison  for  stealing  hay.  He  was  killed 
in  a  saloon  row,  and  if  I  ever  "meet  him 
in  Heaven  " 
I  shall  ask. 
him  whether 
the  wall 


'Let  Us  Meet  Him. 


he  climbed   over 
tunneled  under  it. 

Davison  has  a  very  nice  head 
stone  with  a  pair   of  clasped  >\      \ 
hands  on  it,  and  these  words :]  ]■  \ 

Too  pure  for  earth, 

Gone  to  his  Heavenly  rest." 

I  was  much  affected  at  read-  -too  pure  for  earth." 

ing  the  lines,  but  I  couldn't  help  but  wonder  if  he  repented 
170 


UP    THERE,    ETC. 


171 


of  selling  me  a  bogus  lottery  ticket ;  of  setting  fire  to  the 

railroad  sheds ;  of  stealing  a  carpet  from  the   Methodist 

church,  and  of  several  other  little  matters,  which  caused 

him  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  jailer.     It  is  possible 

that  he  was  "  too  pure  for  earth,"  but  I  know  men  who 

will  bet  ten  dollars  on  it. 

Thatcher  has  a  monument  with  a  lamb  on  top,  and  his 

loving  wife  put  on  the  words : 
"  I  shall  meet  him  up  there." 

I  don't  know  what  they  put  the  lamb  on  for.  Lambs 
don't  carry  the  disposition  which 
Thatcher  had.  I  could  cover  that 
monument  with  chalk-marks  if  I 
should  commence  to  remember  the 
times  I  had  seen  him  come  home, 
throw  his  wife  out  doors  and  play 
smash  with  the  furniture.  Wasn't 
I  present  when  he  bit  Billy  Mad- 
.,  ^^  den's  left  ear  clean  off  in  a  fight  ? 
'■  Up  There  "^^^^     "Wasu't  I  arouud  whcn  he   broke 

his  son's  ribs  ?     Wasn't  I  there  when   he  gouged  Jack 

Spray's  eye  out  ?     And  now  his  widow  is  trying  to  live  so 

that  she  may  meet  him  "  up  there."     If  she  should  look 

around   and    fail   to   see   his 

beloved  i>hiz   in  that  region 

of  eternal   bliss    she   needn't 

think  strange  of  it. 

Peterson's  tombstone  held 

mo  a  great  while.      It  is  of 

f'.ostiy  Italian  marble,  with  an 

Mrn  on  top,  and  a  hand  with 

tne   finger  pointing    towards 

this  paragraph  :  "--om-  Bbtuui. 

"  Gone    before — blighted   by  earth's   wickedness. 

shall  gather  with  hiiu  on  the  other  shore." 


Wk 


172 


WILL    REMAIN    AT    HOME. 


I  remember  when  lie  was  blighted,  though  its  a  long 
time  ago.  He  undertook  to  lick  a  fellow  who  wouldn't 
vote  his  ticket,  and  he  was  knocked  over  a  chair  and  had 
his  skull  fractured.  The  coroner  said  it  w-as  the  worst 
blight  he  had  seen  in  six  months.  I  don't  know^  but  his 
numerous  family  will  "  gather  with  him  on  the  other  side," 
but  I  have  my  doubts.  If  they  should  ever  see  him  again, 
or  if  they  think  they  will,  I  know  of  several  grocers  and 
butchers  who  will  give  'em  fifteen  per  cent  to  collect 
accounts  of  twelve  years'  standing. 

I  found  Deacon  Warner's  tombstone  also.     It  bears  a 
stern,  solemn  look,  just  as  he  used  to,  and  it  says : 
"  Heaven's  gates  shall  open  to  us  who  are  like  him." 

Perhaps  they  will.  "Whether  they  do 
or  not,  I  shall  always  remember  how  he 
sold  me  a  blind  horse  when  I  had  sore 
eyes ;  how  he  raised  house  rent  on 
the  widows;  how  a  Justice  fined  him 
twenty-five  dollars  for  thrashing  a  poor 
bound-boy;  how  he  put  chicory  in  his 
coftee  and  hay-seed  in  his  tea,  and  how 
regularly  he  used  to  pass  the  contribu- 
tion box  to  the  rest  of  us,  but  forgot  to  put  in  anything 
himself.  If  the  gates  of  Heaven  are  going  to  be  held  wide 
open  for  those  of  Deacon  Warner's  class,  I  w^ant  to  put  in 
my  time  in  Michigan. 


GIRL  WANTED. 


ES,  I  want  anotlier — "A  tidy  girl  to  do 
liouse-work   in   a  small   family — good 
wages  and  a  good  home."     That's  the 
way   my   advertisement   always    reads, 
and  as  soon  as  the  paper  is  out  the  girls 
commence  coming.     Tidy  girls  from  ton 
to  sixty-five  years  old  come  pulling  the 
bell,  and  when  told  that  they  won't  suit 
^^^  they  put  on  such  a  look  of  contempt  for 
g  the  door,  the  door-plate,  the  front  gate 
and  the  entire  institution,  that  the  world 
seems  three  degrees  hotter  than  before. 

I  always  engage  the  girl.  This  is  because  of  an  idea  of 
mine  that  I  can  read  human  nature,  and  because  I  do  not 
fear  to  tell  them  in  plain  English  what  is  expected  of  them. 
After  the  door-bell  has  been  pulled  about  five  times,  the 
right-looking  sort  of  a  girl  makes  her  appearance.  She 
says  she  saw  the  advertisement,  and  is  invited  in.  She  says 
she  can  do  any  kind  of  cooking;  loves  to  wash;  is  fond  of 
children;  can  never  sleep  after  five  o'clock  in  the  morning; 
never  goes  out  evenings;  does  not  know  a  young  man  in 
Detroit,  and  she'd  be  willing  to  work  for  low  wages  for  the 
sake  of  getting  a  good  home. 

She  is  told  to  drop  her  bundle,  lay  off  her  things  and  go 
to  work,  and  a  great  burden  rolls  off  my  mind  as  I  con- 
173 


174 


SARAH    AND    HANNAH. 


gratulate  myself  that  the  prize-meclal  girl  has  arrived,  at 
last.  She's  all  right  up  to  about  seven  in  the  evening, 
when  she  is  suddenly  missed,  and  returns  about  ten  o'clock 
to  say  that  she  "just  dropped  out  "  to  get  a  postage-stamp. 
The  next  day  she  begins  to  scatter  the  tea-spoons  in  the 
back-yard,  stops  her  ironing  to  read  a  dime  novel,  and  at 
supper-time  wants  to  know  if  I  can't  send  the  children  oif 
to  live  with  their  grandfather,  get  a  cook  stove  with  silver- 
plated  knobs  and  have  an  addition  built  to  the  kitchen. 
That  evening  a  big  red-headed  butcher  walks  in,  crosses 
his  legs  over  the  kitchen  table,  and  proceeds  to  court  Sarah. 
She  doesn't  last  but  a  day  or  two  longer,  and  then  we 
secure  another. 


'Girl  Wanted' 


This  one  is  right  from  New  Hampshire,  and  doesn't  know 
a  soul  in  Michigan,  and  yet  she  hasn't  finished  the  dinner 
dishes  before  a  cross-eyed  young  man  rings  the  bell  and 
says  he'd  like  to  see  Hannah  for  a  moment.  After  seeing 
Mm,  Hannah  concludes  not  to  stay,  as  we  are  so  far  from 


STILL    WANTING.  175 

St.  John's  church,  and  as  \vc  don't  appear  to  be  religious 
people. 

The  next  one  especially  recommends  herself  as  being 
"Just  like  their  own  mother"  to  the  children,  and  isn't  in 
the  house  half  a  day  before  she  draws  Small  Pica  over  her 
knee  and  gives  him  a  regular  old  Canadian  waltz. 

The  next  one  has  five  recommendations  as  a  neat  and 
tidy  girl,  and  yet  it  isn't  three  days  before  she  bakes  the 
shoe  brush  with  the  beef,  washes  her  hands  in  a  soup 
tureen,  or  drops  hairpins  into  the  pudding. 

I  growl  about  these  things  after  a  while,  but  I  am  met 
with  the  statement  that  they  had  worked  five  years  for 
Governor  this,  or  Lord  that,  and  that  in  all  that  time  no 
one  had  so  much  as  looked  cross-eyed  at  them.  I  am 
called  mean,  ill-tempered,  particular,  fault-finding,  and  all 
that,  and  the  girl  goes  away  wondering  why  the  Lord  has 
spared  me  as  long  as  He  has. 

We've  been  wanting  "  a  good,  tidy  girl "  for  these  last 
twelve  years,  and  I  suppose  that  we  may  go  another  dozen 
and  still  be  wantiui?. 


THE  PROOF-READER. 


feLAST  him ! 

(^^  I  beg  the  pardon  of  every  reader,  male  and  female, 
for  using  the  above  expression.  It  is  the  first  time  I  ever 
used  it,  and  it  shall  be  the  last. 

lie,  the  proof-reader,  commenced  on  me  fourteen  years 
ago,  has  followed  me  like  a  sleuth-hound  down  the  long 
valley  of  years,  and  to-day  his  demoniac  laugh  fell  on  my 
ears  as  I  climbed  the  stairs. 

May  he  be  mashed  on  the  railroad  the  first  time  he 
travels  !  May  the  midnight  cat  disturb  his  slumbers  until 
he  is  worn  down  to  a  shadow,  and  then  may  some  omnibus 
run  over  the  shadow  ! 

I  never  wrote  a  pathetic  article  that  the  proof-reader 
didn't  sj)oil.  Once  he  made  "  silent  tomb  "  read  "  Silent 
Thomas,"  and  when  I  charged  down  on  him  he  excused 
his  criminal  carelessness  by  saying  that  he  thought  his 
error  made  the  article  much  more  powerful  and  pathetic ! 

Another  time,  when  I  wrote  an  article  headed  "  The 
Silent  Dead,"  the  villain — the  perjured,  unprincipled 
wretch — made  it  read  "  The  Silvery  Deaf!"  and  he  had 
the  impudence  to  tell  me  that  almost  any  sort  of  a  head 
was  good  enough  for  anything  I  wrote ! 

When  I  have  reported  a  political  speech  by  Barnes,  the 

proof-reader  has  made  it  a  speech  by  Baker.    ^Yhen  I  have 

reported  an  accident  to  Taylor  he  has  put  in  the  name  of 

Trotter.    When  I  have  said  that  a  newly-launched  schooner 

176 


can't  heduce  'em.  177 

was  tlii-rtj-two  feet  beam  he  has  made  me  say  "  barn,"  or 
made  the  thirty-two  feet  thirty-two  rods. 

May  his  wife  have  a  continual  cough,  and  may  his  chil- 
dren have  chicken-pox  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave ! 

When  I  have  said  that  the  First  Baptist  church  was  to 
have  a  new  organ  he  has  made  the  item  read  "new  orphan." 
When  I  have  said  that  the  lurid  liames  leaped  high  in  air 
before  an  alarm  was  sounded,  he  has  made  me  say  "  the 
ludicrous  "  flames.  When  I  have  said  that  the  bride  was 
eleganth'  attired,  he  has  made  me  say  "  elegantly  attached." 

May  no  tailor  trust  him  !  May  all  dogs  bite  him !  May 
he  sink  with  an  ocean  steamer,  get  scorched  in  a  prairie 
fii-e,  or  go  down  ^^ith  some  falling  bridge  !  Every  village 
board  and  city  council  should  pass  an  ordinance  making  it 
a  misdemeanor  for  any  person  to  harbor  a  proof-reader 
over  night.  They  never  die.  They  grow  old  until  they 
reach  a  certain  impudent  point,  and  then  they  stick  right 
there.  ISTothing  ever  throws  them  out  of  a  situation.  They 
go  on  year  after  year,  killing  editors  and  reporters  by 
inches,  and  there  is  no  law  to  prevent.  K  they  get  con- 
sumption they  still  live.  If  they  fall  down  stairs  they  do 
not  break  a  bone.  K  they  become  blind  they  go  right  on 
reading  proof  and  putting  in  "  Dick  and  Kate  "  for  the 
fairly  written  "  delicate." 

Blast !     But  I  said  I  wouldn't. 


JORKS,  EX-PHILANTHROPIST. 


tHERE  was  a  time  when  he  believed  in  philanthropy, 
and  it  was  a  hard  struggle  for  him  to  give  it  up  and 
admit  that  it  was  his  solemn  duty  to  attend  to  his  own 
business  and  use  the  world  as  the  world  used  him. 

"When  he  was  a  boy  he  heard  a  preacher  preach  a  ser- 
mon on  the  sin  of  covetousness,  and  he 
resolved  never  to  covet.  He  got  along 
quite  well  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then  hear- 
ing his  father  express  a  wish  that  he  had 
been  born  rich,  young  Jorks  raised  his 
voice  and  replied : 

"  Father,  it  is  a  sin  to  covet." 
The  old  man  looked  at  him  from  three 
or  four  diiferent  ways,  and  then  said : 
Jorks.  "  I  see  I've  got  to  warm  you  up  again  ! 

You  haven't  had  a  good  basting  in  four  weeks,  and  you 
are  growing  sassy  again  !" 

He  thereupon  arose,  carefully  selected  a  barrel-stave,  and 
he  made  his  first-born  hop  three  feet  high. 

When  he  had  older  grown,  Jorks  read  that  it  was  the 
duty  of  mankind  to  speak  soothing  words  to  the  weary  and 
heavy-laden  victims  of  misfortune.  He  didn't  find  any  for 
some  time,  but  at  last  came  across  a  chap  whose  wife  had 
just  slid  out  with  another  man.  He  had  a  limpid  eye  and 
a  melancholy  face,  and  Jorks  patted  him  on  the  shoulder 
and  said : 

178 


HE    TRIES    AGAIN. 


179 


"  Cheer  up,  my  friend.     Though  all  is  dark  and  drear 
to-day,  to-morrow  may  be  golden  with  bright  promises." 
"  Young  man,  ycr  drunk  !"  replied  the  stranger. 

"Drunk?     Why,  my  dear " 

"Then  I'm  a  liar,  am  I!"  exclaimed  the  stranger,  and 

he  spat  twice  on  his  left  hand,  and  twice  on  his  right, 

and  Jorks   was   knocked  into  a  three-cornered  mass   of 

^  mistaken  philanthropy. 

^  f'^X  ^^^    -         Some  time  after  that 

he  decided  to  "  speak 
gently  to  the  erring 
ones."  He  read  of  a 
case  where  a  desperate 
criminal  had  been  thor- 
oughly reformed  by  a 
kind  word  spoken  at 
the  right  moment,  and 
he  looked  around  for  a 
criminal.  Remember- 
ing that  he  had  read  items  in  the  daily  papers  reflecting 
on  the  wickedness  of  a  saloon-keeper  named  Dutch  Jake, 
Jorks  went  down  and  called  on  him  and  said : 

"  j\[y  kind  friend,  let  me  help  you  to  raise  yourself  out 
of  this  pit  of  degradation." 

"  Yliat  you  shpokes  about  ?"  inquired  Jake. 
"  Throw  this  avocation  aside — rise  above  it — become  a 
man !"  continued  Jorks. 

"Who's  goin'  to  lick  me!"  shouted  Jake,  shedding  his 
coat. 

"  ITo  one,  my  friend ;  I  was  trying  to  encourage  you — to 

stimulate " 

And  Jake  chucked  him  up  against  the  wall,  loosened  his 
teeth,  battered  his  nose,  and  kicked  him  out  on  the  walk 
to  the  police. 


180  FINALLY    GETS    OVER    IT. 

Jorks  didn't  want  to  give  it  up.  He  took  homeless 
vagrants  to  his  house,  and  they  stole  his  Sunday  suit  and 
silver  forks ;  he  lent  money  to  hard-up  strangers,  and  they 
were  never  heard  of  afterwards ;  he  took  weeping  lost 
children  in  his  arms  to  soothe  them,  and  was  arrested  on 
the  charge  of  attempted  abduction  ;  he  emptied  his  pantry 
to  feed  beggars,  and  they  returned  and 
stole  his  chickens.  He  finally  quit, 
and  to  his  surprise  he  found  that  the 
world  went  on  just  as  well. 

Jorks  isn't  a  philan- 
thropist any  more;  he 
figured  it  up  and  found 
that  philanthropy  didn't 
pay  one  per  cent  on  the 
capital  invested,  and  that  '-^^j 
he  was  being  called  "an  - 
old  fool  "  thirteen  times  "^^^^  ^^  ^«^^"" 

where  he  was  called  a  "philanthropist"  once.  I  don't  know 
at  this  hour  where  any  one  can  get  more  fun  for  the  money 
than  to  stand  on  the  corner  opposite  Jorks'  house  and 
see  the  cheerful  alacrity  with  which  he  helps  a  beggar  off 
the  steps,  and  hear  his  tender  voice  crying  out : 

"  Durn  ye,  man  !  this  is  the  tenth  time  you  have  called 
here  this  week !" 


ONLY  AN  OHIO  MAN. 


MO!N'G  the  railroad  travelers  eating  dinner  at 
.^,  a  hotel  in  Detroit  one  day  was  a  chap  from 
|v--\,  Fayette,  Ohio,  who  lioisted  in  meat,  potato 
and  bread  as  if  he  had  been  a  week  without 
eating.  A  second  cup  of  coffee  was  brought 
Vi^  him,  and  in  his  hurry  he  picked  it  up  and 
took  a  large  swallow.  It  was  considerably 
hotter  than  pepper,  and  in  his  excitement 
the  Buckeye  opened  his  mouth  and  shot  the  liquid  across 
the  table  against  a  young  man's  shirt  bosom. 

"  Gosh — whoop — hot — beg.  pardon — blazes — who-o-o!" 
he  exclainied,  reaching  after  water. 

"  You're  a  hog,  sir !"  replied  the  young  man,  "  a  regular 
hog  I" 

"  I  am,  eh  ?" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"  And  I've  got  bristles  ?" 
"  Yes,  you  have." 
"And  I  grunt?" 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Stranger,"  said  the  Buckeye  as  he  reached  across  after 
another  slajijack,  "  stranger,  I'm  not  a  hog — I'm  only  an 
Ohio  man,  bound  for  Lansing." 
181 


A  CAREFUL  MAN. 


MOT  for  a  thousand  dollars  a  day  would  I  be  like  Mr. 
liugbj,  and  yet  I  am  his  friend.  He  is  a  careful 
man — one  of  your  every-day  philosophers,  and  he  wouldn't 
yell  "Hip!  hurrah!"  if  ^ew  Year's,  Christmas,  Thanks- 
giving and  Fourth  of  July  were  rolled  into  one,  and  cham- 
pagne was  knee-deep  all  over  the  street. 

Wlien  a  beggar  asks  Mr.  Rugby  for  alms,  something  like 
the  following  conversation  ensues  : 

"  You  say  your  name  is  Thompson  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  It  may  be  Thomj)son — it  may  be  Brown ;  how  am  I 
to  know  ?" 

"But  I'm  hungry." 

"You  may  be  hungry — you  may  not;  it's  an  open  ques- 
tion, and  a  very  serious  question.  If  you  are  hungry  you 
should  have  food ;  if  not,  any  extra  food  at  this  time  would 
impair  your  digestion." 

"  I'm  almost  sick,"  says  the  beggar. 

"  You  may  be — you  may  not,"  is  the  reply.  "  I  am  not 
a  physician,  and  I  am  not  able  to  say.  K  sick,  you  should 
have  medicine ;  if  not,  medicine  would  be  simply  thrown 
away." 

"I  have  five  children." 

"  You  may  have  five — you  may  have  fifty ;  I  shall  not  pre- 
tend to  say,  as  I  do  not  know.  Iso  one,  my  dear  man,  should 
ever  say  he  knows  this  or  that  when  he  does  not  know. 
182 


can't  be  caught.  188 

Tlicy  say  it  is  ninety-five  millions  of  miles  to  the  sun,  but 
/  do  not  say  so.  How  do  I  know  it  is  ;  I  cannot  measure 
it,  and  it  may  lack  a  hundred  miles,  or  overrun  a  thousand. 
They  also  say " 

By  this  time  the  beggar  has  become  discouraged  and 
passed  on,  and  Mr.  Rugby  has  no  one  to  listen  to  his 
further  explanation. 

If  I  meet  him  on  the  street,  I  say : 

"  Howdy,  Mr.  Rugby — fine  day,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  It  is  a  fine  day  here,"  he  replies,  "  but  I  do  not  know 
how  it  is  in  Chicago,  Cleveland,  Savannah  or  San  Fran- 
cisco, and  I  cannot  answer  in  a  general  way." 

K  I  hear  the  fire-bells  go  ringing,  I  grab  my  hat  and 
rush  out  and  plunge  around,  and  if  I  see  Rugby,  I  shout : 

"Ho!  ha!  whoop — fire  on  Harrison  avenue  !" 

"  How  do  you  know  ?"  he  inquires. 

"  Because  the  alarm  is  from  box  seventeen." 

"  But  it  may  be  a  false  alarm." 

"iN"© — I  see  smoke." 

"  "Wliich  may  be  caused  by  a  bonfire." 

"  But  I  see  flames." 

"  It  may  be  a  burning  chimney." 

I  feel  mad  enough  to  boot  him,  and  I  can't  half  enjoy 
the  balance  of  the  evening. 

Wlicn  General  Grant  was  elected,  and  the  news  came 
over  the  wires,  and  many  people  were  half-wild,  I  rushed 
into  Rugby's  house  and  yelled : 

"  Well,  Grant's  elected  !" 

"  How  do  you  know  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Know !  why,  there's  a  big  blow-out  down  town !" 

"  But  has  any  one  seen  Mr.  Grant  ?" 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  Has  he  informed  any  one  here  of  his  election?" 

"  "WTiy,  no,  but  the  telegraph  says  so." 


18-1 


NOT    YET    CONVINCED. 


"  How  does  the  telegraph  know  ?"  he  queried,  and  I  don"t 
believe  he  is  really  certain  in  his  own  mind  to  this  day 
whether  Grant  is  President  or  not. 

He  will  die  some  day,  and  I  hope  he  will  reach  Heaven. 
K  he  does,  he  will  engage  in  a  conversation  something  as 
follows  : 

"  Is  this  the  gate  of  Heaven  ?"  he  will  ask  St.  Peter. 

"Yes;  come  in." 

"  Then  this  is  Heaven,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  How  do  I  know  that  it  is  Heaven  ?" 

"  This  is  the  gate — come  in." 

"  I  can't  do  it.  It  may  he  Heaven — it  may  not.  I'll  sit 
down  on  this  losr  until  I  get  some  reliable  news." 


^  ^ 


cL^r^{i^«^, 


HIS  TIME  FOR  FIDDLING. 


EAKDERLNTG  along  on  the  shady  side 
^of  the  street,  a  book  canvasser  finally 
halted    before   a  tumble-down    tene- 
ment.    A  small  lame  boy  opened  the 
door  in  answer  to  his  knock,  and  just 
as  he  entered,  a  man  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  a  forlorn-looking  bed  raised  a 
fiddle  to  his  shoulder  and  commenced 
scraping  out  a  tune. 
Have  you  a  Bible  in  the  house  ?"  asked  the  can- 
vasser as  he  crossed  the  room. 

"  Nary  Bibe,"  answered  the  man ;  "  and — 

Old  Dan  Tucker 
Drempt  a  dream!" 

"  Or  a  hymn-book  ?"  continued  the  canvasser. 
"  No — nary,  and — 

If  you  love  me,  Mollie,  darling, 
Let  your  answer  be  a  kiss." 

"  I  am  agent  for  the  sale  of  this  Bible,"  said  the  canvas- 
ser, taking  the  volume  out  of  his  satchel. 
"  Couldn't  buy  one  cover,  and — 

Oh,  darkies,  liow  my  heart  grows  weary, 
S'ghing  for  the  old  "folks  at 'home." 

185 


186 


FURTHER    MUSIC. 


""  I  can  sell  you  tlie  book  for  a  small  amount  down  and 

the  balance  in  weekly  payments,     A  great  many "   * 

"  Bibuls  are  all  right,  but  I've  got  a  sore  foot,  and —  * 

'Twas  a  calm  still  night, 
And  the  moon's  pale  light — " 

"  If  you  do  not  care  to  read  the  book  yourself  you  should 

not  refuse  your  child  permission,"  remarked  the  canvasser. 

"  And  the  old  w^oman's  up  stairs,  sick  with  fever,  and — 

They  took  her  off  to  Georgia 
To  toil  her  li±e  away." 


"  But  it  seems  hard  to  think  that  you  are  permitting 
yourself  and  ihmily  to  live  in  ignorance  of  religious " 

"  Bibuls  is  all  right,  and  I'd  encourage  'em  if  times 
wasn't  so  blasted — 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  you  and  me — 

Little  brown  jug,  don't  1  love  thee!" 

"  I  have  a  smaller  edition  like  this.  You  can  have  that 
by  papng  fifty  cents  down  and  twenty-five  cents  per  week 
until  paid  up." 

"  No  use,  stranger,"  replied  the  man ;  "  there  haint  noth- 
ing to  do,  money  is  tight,  and — 

I've  wandered  this  wide  world  all  over." 


IT    AVAS    UIS    TIME.  187 

"  I  wish  you  would  cease  that  fiddling  and  singing  for  a 
moment  and  let  me  talk  to  you,"  said  the  agent. 
"  Bibuls  is  all  right — you  are  all  right,  and — 

Oh!  this  workl  is  sad  and  dreary, 
Everywhere  I  roam!" 

"  Won't  you  stop  for  just  one  moment?" 
"  I'd  like  to  oblige  you,  but  now's  my  reg'lar  time  for 
fiddling  and  singing,  and — 

Up  in  a  balloon,  boys, 
Up  in  a  balloon." 

"  Then  I  can't  sell  you  a  Bible  ?" 
"  Don't  look  as  if  you  could,  for — 

I've  wandered  through  the  village,  Tom, 
I've  sat  beneath  the  tree." 

And  the  canvasser  left  the  house  in  despair. 


TOPSY  TUMBLE. 


fHE  wasn't  a  bad  sort  of  a  girl  for  one  who  had  been 
brought  up  in  an  alley  all  her  days,  living  with  old 
Mother  Hart  ever  since  she  was  large  enough  to  gather 
chips  around  the  ship-yard.  The  boys  called  her  Topsy 
Tumble,  and  nobody  knew  anything  about  her  parents  or 
relatives.  Her  hair  was  long  and  matted ;  her  face  tanned 
to  a  brown ;  her  nose  always  bore  a  stain  of  dirt,  and  she 
had  stone-bruises  on  her  feet,  and  chapped  hands  and  sore 
heels,  just  like  the  ragged  boys  with  w^hom  she  played.  The 
"  society  "  of  the  alley  rather  cut  Topsy  Tumble,  but  she 
was  independent,  and  she  made  faces  at  "  society "  from 
the  top  of  coal-sheds,  and  allowed  herself  to  be  harnessed 
up  beside  Bob  White  when  the  boys  wanted  a  blooded 
team  to  draw  a  creaking  cart  do%vn  around  the  railroad 
crossing. 

The  alley  was  unusually  quiet  the  other  week.  Topsy 
Tumble  was  sick.  Mother  Hart  said  so  when  Bob  White 
went  to  see  if  Topsy  wanted  to  trade  her  old  jack-knife  for 
a  small  dog  which  he  had  picked  up  on  Atwater  street. 
It  was  a  strange  thing,  her  illness.  For  eleven  years  she 
had  rolled  in  the  dirt,  waded  through  the  snow  and  plashed 
around  in  the  mud,  and  nobody  had  ever  heard  her  com- 
plain of  anything  more  than  a  stubbed  toe.  Bob  couldn't 
make  it  out.  He  and  Bill  Da\^s  and  Sam  Sharp  and  Chip 
Larkins  sat  in  the  shade  of  a  truck-wagon  going  to  decay, 
and  talked  it  over.  It  would  be  rough  on  Mother  Hart  to 
188 


^orrtcLTtce,    of  ctrt    ^lley. 
Death  op  Topsy  Tr:>rBLE. 


WHAT    MRS.    JIAKT    SAID.  189 

liaw  sickness  and  boar  a  doctor's  bill,  and  tlicv  wondered 
if  Topsy  would  got  well  in  time  to  go  out  with  them  the 
next  week. 

The  doctor  said  it  was  a  bad  fever,  and  most  of  the  folks 
in  John  Brown  alley  called  in  to  say  that  they  would  sit 
up  nights  and  do  anything  they  could.  Topsy  was  out  of 
lier  head,  talking  strange  things ;  and,  after  looking  at  her 
flushed  face  and  listening  to  her  mutterings,  Bob  "White 
called  the  boys  together  on  top  of  a  coal-shed,  and  there 
was  a  lump  in  his  throat  as  he  whispered : 

"Boys,  Topsy's  a-goin'  to  die !" 

The  boys  looked  around  over  the  sheds  and  made  no 
reply,  and  by  and  by  they  slid  down  one  by  one  and  went 
home.  There  was  no  more  dog-fighting  in  the  alley — 
no  pounding  of  fire-alarms  on  the  old  steamboat  boiler  and 
then  rushing  the  "  machine  "  up  to  the  corner.  Columbus 
Jones  brought  his  rooster  down  and  wanted  to  bet  a  kite 
that  it  could  clean  out  any  chicken  in  John  Brown  alley, 
but  the  boys  had  no  enthusiasm. 

Topsy  grew  worse.  The  doctor  called  twice  a  day,  but 
his  medicine  didn't  touch  the  case,  and  he  told  Mother 
Hart  that  Topsy  must  die.  The  old  woman  felt  a  little 
weak,  and  her  eyes  grew  misty.  It  liad  been  a  score  of 
years  since  she  had  wept  for  grief,  and  she  could  not 
remember  when  she  had  thought  of  death. 

The  neighbors  came  in,  and  they  tip-toed  across  the 
room,  and  kept  their  babies  still,  that  the  dying  girl  might 
hear  no  harsh  sound.  Bob  White  and  his  chums  hung 
around  the  door  awhile,  and  finally  gathered  courage  to 
pull  oft'  their  hats  and  enter  the  house.  Mother  Ilart 
motioned  for  them  to  take  seats  on  the  bench  at  the  head 
of  the  bed,  and  she  whispered  in  a  weak  voice : 

"Bob,  I'm  afeard  we're  going  to  lose  Topsy!" 

Bob  wiped  his  eyes,  and  his  chin  quivered,  and  some  of 
the  boys  broke  clear  down  and  wept. 


190  THE    ANGELS    CAME. 

Topsy  was  unconscious.  The  boys  wondered  at  the  pal- 
lor of  her  face  and  the  whiteness  of  her  hands,  and  the 
women  shed  tears.  Mother  Hart  kept  wiping  her  eyes  on 
her  apron,  and  the  boys  wondered  if  sitting  there  wasn't 
something  like  going  to  meeting. 

"  She  was  a  good  girl,  Topsy  was,"  whispered  one  of 
the  women. 

"  And  so  willing  to  help  her  mother,"  said  another. 

"  And  she  stood  up  for  John  Brown  alley  !"  added  Bob 
White,  a  sob  in  his  throat. 

Darkness  settled  down,  and  they  almost  lost  sight  of  the 
whit«  face.  No  one  moved.  Some  of  the  babies  fell 
asleep,  and  the  mothers  trotted  them  softly,  and  the  boys 
almost  dozed  as  they  sat  crooked  upon  the  bench.  The 
shadows  of  night  grew  deeper,  and  the  rattle  of  a  truck 
going  home  sounded  painfully  loud  and  harsh.  Mother 
Hart  moved  softly  over  and  lighted  the  little  old  lamp,  and 
as  she  held  it  up  the  woman  said  :  "•  Poor  dear  !"  and  Bob 
"White  leaned  over  on  Chip  Larkins'  shoulder  and  sobbed 
aloud. 

Topsy  Tumble  was  dead  ! 

The  little  soul,  never  washed  by  mother's  tears — never 
made  better  by  a  word  about  Heaven — never  drinking  in 
the  knowledge  that  only  the  body  dies — had  crossed  the 
dark  valley  alone,  having  only  the  tears  and  heartaches  of 
the  dwellers  in  John  Brown  alley  to  plead  its  case  with  the 
ano;els. 


THE  FIRST  HOUSE  IN  MICHIGAN. 


'OT  long  since,  I  stood  before  the  first  house  ever 
erected  in  Michigan.      A  thousand  sad  memories 
gurgled  up. 

It  isn't  every  person  who  can  appreciate  these  old  relics 
and  call  out  all  the  tender  fancies  connected  with  them. 
I  have  known  old  houses  more  or  less  ever  since  my  birth, 
and  I  can  appreciate  a  dozen  of  'em  at  once. 

It  made  me  feel  lonely  to  stand  before  that  old  first 
house.     It  seemed  a  sacred  thing  in  my  eyes. 

The  man  who  built  it,  a  hundred  years  ago,  wasn't  there 
any  more.  'No,  I  looked  around  and  could  sec  nothing  of 
him.  However,  I  could  appreciate  his  pioneer  struggles, 
his  griefs  and  heartaches,  just  the  same,  and  the  fact  of  his 
absence  was  excused  as  I  gazed  at  the  ancient  hut,  fast 
going  to  decay.  It  wasn't  a  first-class  house  any  more. 
The  door  had  rotted  away, 
some  of  the  logs  were  crum- 
bling to  dust,  and  there  was 
a  general  tearful  look  to  the 
whole  concern.  I  sat  _  vWi 
down  on  a 
log  and  wept.  .^^ 

It  is  a  sad 
thing  to   sit 

on  a  log  and  be  overwhelmed  witii  memories  of  the  past — 

of  a  hundred  years  ago.     There  that  old  first  house  was 

191 


192  A    BASE    PROPOSITION. 

fast  falling  to  decay,  and  the  general  public  didn't  seem  to 
care  a  picayune  about  it.  Two  boys  were  probing  a  wood- 
chuck's  den  not  fifty  rods  awa}^,  and  a  red-headed  man  was 
washing  a  one-horse  wagon  in  a  pond  whose  waters  almost 
touched  the  sacred  logs. 
I  went  over  to  him. 

He  seemed  like  an  emotional  man — ^like  one  whose  heart- 
strings would  yank  a  little  as  fond  memory  played  on  them 
a  tune  of  long  ago. 

"  It  is  a  sad  thing  to  look  upon  the  first  house  erected  in 
Michigan,  isn't  it  ?"  I  queried. 

The  man  with  red  hair  looked  up  and  grinned,  and  as 
he  rubbed  away  at  the  mud-stained  spokes,  he  replied : 
"  Want  to  buy  a  dog,  stranger  ?" 

"  A  dog,  sir  ?     Man,  have  you  no  soul — no  heart-strings  ! 

I  am  plunged  in  sadness  as  I  look  upon  these  old  logs.     I 

think  I  hear  a  funeral  bell  tolling  the  death  of  the  past!" 

"  It's   one  of  those   blasted   locomotives  down   at  the 

bend  !"  he  replied,  raising  his  head  to  listen. 

"  Hark !  Doesn't  the  breeze  rustling  the  tender  limbs 
of  the  beeches  seem  to  sing  sad  requiems  o'er  the  dead 
past?" 

"  Sounds  to  me  like  a  feller  whistling,  over  there  by  the 
slaughter-house  !"  replied  the  unfeeling  wretch. 

I  went  back  to  the  house  and  wept 
anew, 

Who  built   that   house  ?     Was   his 
name  Smith  or  Robinson  or  Brown  ? 
Was  there   any  living  witness  of  his 
'?^\  V\  pioneer  hardships  and  privations  ? 
^^-        The  red-headed  man  came  over  and 
inquired : 
"  So,  you  wouldn't  like  to  buy  a  dog  ?" 
"Murderer!"  I  shouted,  how  dare  you  come  within  this 


STILL    ON    THE    BASE.  193 

circle  of  memory's  influence  and  basely  ask  me  to  purcliase 
your  dog!" 

"  I  can  recommend  him  for  coon  !"  he  quietly  observed. 
"  See  there  !  man — gaze  on  those  venerated  logs  !"  I 
said,  as  I  caught  his  arm.  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  can 
stand  here  and  think  of  dogs  and  one-horse  wagons  and 
postal  currency  when  I  am  trembling  with  emotion  caused 
by  the  recollections  of  the  silent,  speechless  dead  who  came 
here  and  hewed  out  the  whispering  wilderness  and  erected 
that  cabin?" 

"Do  you  have  these  spells  often?"  he  inquired  in  a 
harsh,  cruel  tone. 

I  pointed  to  his  one-horse  wagon,  but  he  wouldn't  go. 
I  wept  some  more. 

"  Haven't  any  navy  plug  about  you  ?" 
he  inquired,  as  I  looked  through  my  tears 
at  the  precious  logs. 

"Wretch!  go  away — go  hence  and  afar! 
If  your  heart  cannot  throb  and  your  soul 
yearn,  go  away  and  let  me  feel  my 
feelings !" 

"  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do  !"  he  replied  as  he  sat  down.  "  I 
believe  I'd  better  keep  an  eye  on  you  !" 

I  walked  around  that  sacred  house,  and  that  monster  sat 
there  and  whistled:  "Shoo,  Fly!"  I  peered  in  at  the 
door — at  the  smoke-stained  rafters  and  the  crumbling  logs, 
and  he  sang :  "  If  ever  I  cease  to  love  !" 

I  sat  down  and  was  listening  to  the  sad  whispers  of  the 
soft  wind  when  another  man  came  down  to  the  pond. 
He  was  leading  something. 
It  was  not  a  horse. 
It  was  not  a  dromedary. 
It  was  not  a  cow. 
The  boys  got  into  a  fight  over  the  wood-chuck. 

M 


194 


A    VAIN    CALL    FROM    MEMORY. 


The    red-headed 
Awaj." 


man    saiii 


Ten   Thousand    Miles 


The  beast  hung  back  and  brayed. 

I  went  away  from  there,  but  even  as  I 
walked  felov;ly  away,  fond  memory  calling  out 
to  me  not  to  leave 
her,  the  red-head- 
ed man  tore  a 
pole  off  the  roof 
of  that  sacred  old 
structure,  and  I 
KoT  A  dbomedary.  heard    him    yell 


out; 


"  Hang  to  the  halter,  Tom,  while  I  wollop  the  infernal 
old  cundurango  up  strong !" 


HOW  A  WOMAN  READS  A  LETTER. 


fHE  knows  it  by  the  postmark.  "No  one  but  Augusta 
Ann  Greenville  lives  where  that  letter  was  posted. 
She  turns  the  letter  over  nine  or  ten  times,  looks  to  see  if 
it  has  been  tampered  with,  and  finally  pinches  one  end 
open.  She  regrets  that  she  didn't  open  it  on  the  side,  but 
it  is  too  late.  After  the  letter  is  out  she  looks  into  the 
envelope  to  see  if  it  contains  anything  more,  though  she 
knew  it  didn't. 

She  unfolds  the  letter  at  last,  and  flops  it  over  to  see  the 
signature  on  the  fourth  page.  Then  she  reads  the  date  and 
compares  it  vdtb.  the  postmark  to  see  how  long  the  precious 
missive  has  been  on  the  road.  Two  whole  days !  Bless 
her !  but  she  has  been  to  Fishertown  a  dozen  times,  and  it 
never  took  her  but  twenty-three  hours.  Those  post-oflice 
folks  are  getting  awful  reckless.  By  and  by  they  won't 
care  whether  she  gets  a  letter  at  all. 

She  finally  reads : 

"  Dear,  darling  Mollie : — I  have  had  S2ich  times  since  I 
^v^ote  you  before  !     You  know  Jim  Taylor " 

(Then  she  talks) : 

"  Know  Jim  Taylor — guess  I  do  !     Didn't  he  take  me  to 

spelling  school  the  night  I  wore  that  serge  dress  trimmed 

with  fringe.     I've  heard  that  Jim's  uncle  Dan  was  sent  to 

State's  prison  for  stealing  a  horse,  but  I  don't  see  how  they 

195 


196  TALKS    AND    READS. 

can  blame  Jim,  I'm  sure  he  isn't  responsible  for  what  his 
uncles  do.     But  let's  see  what  she  says  about  Jim." 

(Then  she  reads) : 

" — Well,  Jim  Taylor  came  home  with  me  from  the  dona- 
tion the  other  night,  and  what  do  you  think  he  said  ?  I 
was  never  so  astonished  in  my  life.  He  said  that  Tom 
Goodale  and  Minnie  Nettleton  were " 

(Then  she  talks): 

"  Mercy  sakes  alive !  but  is  that  Tom  Goodale  going  to 
throw  himself  away  on  such  a  pink-faced  simpleton  as 
Minnie  Nettleton  !  I  can't  believe  it.  Why,  he's  rich,  he 
is,  and  she  hasn't  got  the  second  dress  to  her  back !  He 
must  marry  her  for  her  beauty,  though  I  don't  call  her 
handsome.     Well,  well,  if  that  don't  amaze  me !" 

(Then  she  reads) : 

"  And  Minnie  Nettleton  were  down  to  Blakely's  husking 
bee,  and  they  never  spoke  to  each  other !  Isn't  it  awful  ? 
You  know  I  wrote  you  that  they  were  going  to  get  mar- 
ried ?     I  had  it  on  the  authority  of  Nancy " 

(Then  she  talks) : 

"  Collins,  of  course  !  If  any  one  is  going  to  get  married, 
Nancy  Collins  is  sure  to  know  all  about  it  a  year  before- 
hand. I  remember  the  day  we  went  to  Orchard  Lake  to 
the  Good  Templars'  excursion,  and  she  said  my  curls  were 
false,  and  that  my  nose  was  too  large  for  my  face  !  Dear 
me,  but  didn't  I  give  her  such  a  look !" 

(Then  she  reads) : 
— "  who  is  now  lying  at  the  point  of  death.     They  say  she 
caught  the  fever  nursing  Parson  Gray,  who " 

(Then  she  talks) : 

"  Who  is  looking  around  for  a  second  wife,  I  suppose. 
Well,  I  wonder  how  he  came  to  fall  sick  ?  And  did  you 
ever  hear  of  such  a  thing  as  his  sending  for  that  old  maid 
to  nurse  him  ?     Poor  man  !     I  hope  he'll  live  and  make  a 


WOULD   LIKE   SOME    NEWS. 


197 


happy  matcli  this  time.  They  say  his  wife  wasn't  a  bit 
refined,  and  that  the  fact  used  to  mortify  him  awfully.  I 
wonder  if  Augusta  Ann  mentions  anything  about  it  ? 

Then  she  reads,  talks,  goes  over  the  letter  a  second  time, 
folds  it  up  and  puts  it  away,  and  declares  that  she'd  give 
most  anything  to  get  a  real  letter — one  with  some  news 
and  gossip  in. 


AN  HOUR  AT  THE  CENTRAL  STATION  COURT. 


IpTp'^g'OinSrG  man,  this  is  a  pretty  way  to  commence  the 
•  •  f^  year   1875,   isn't   it?"   exclaimed   his  Honor,  as 
Michael  Smith  stood  before  him  in  pensive  attitude. 
"  I'm  sorry,"  replied  the  prisoner. 

"  Yes,  so  am  I.  It  gives  me  the  heart-burn  to  see  a 
youth  of  twenty-two  flopped  out  here  on  a  charge  of  drunk- 
enness. If  that's  the  way  you  start  off  the  new  year, 
where  do  you  expect  to  land  at  its  close  ?  " 

"  I'll  do  better,  sir — I've  sworn  oiF." 
The  Court  picked  up  his  snuft-box, 
gently  tapped  the  bottom,  removed  the 
lid,  inhaled  a  fragrant  pinch,  and  con- 
tinued : 

"  Mr.  Smith,  there's  a  scratch  on 
your  nose,  dirt  on  your  chin,  and  you 
look  demoralized  out  of  your  eyes,  but 
I'll  try  you.  I  don't  want  to  fall  on  a 
young  man  like  a  horse  on  a  butterfly 
the  first  time  *he  comes  here,  but  let 
the  first  also  be  the  last  time  with  you. 
Consider,  sir,  that  you  have  had  a  nar- 
row escape ;  go  home  and  be  wise." 

A  NEW  YEARS  CALLER. 
John  Robinson  made  ITew  Year's  calls.     He  called  on  a 
saloon-keeper,  he  called  for  liquor,  called  the  liquor  good, 
198 


ANOTHER    PAIR.  199 

and  drank  enough  to  trip  Mm  up.  Then  he  called  for 
police,  and  when  the  police  came  he  called  them  liars  and 
such. 

"I  was  ha\dng  a  little  fun,"  he  explained,  winking  at 
his  Honor. 

"John  Robinson,  are  you  aware  that  this  is  a  very 
solemn  world,"  said  the  Court,  "  a  world  which  has  ten 
heart-aches  to  one  smile  ?  Don't  you  know  that  the  grim 
shadow  of  grief  rests  upon  every  door-step,  and  that  the 
tomb-stones  in  the  cemeteries  almost  outnumber  the  trees 
in  the  forest  ?  There's  wailing  in  every  household,  John 
Robinson — there's  grief  in  every  heart.  And  yet  you  claim 
that  you  were  only  having  a  little  fun  !" 

"  That's  all,  your  Honor — it  was  a  holiday." 

"  It  was  sad  fun,  John  Robinson.  While  all  the  rest  of 
us  were  swearing  off  and  making  double-back-action 
resolves,  you  were  lying  at  the  corner  of  an  alley  dead 
drunk.  It  is  five  dollars  or  sixty  days,  sir,  and  if  this  case 
was  before  a  Chicago  police  justice  he'd  make  it  five  hun- 
dred dollars  or  a  life  sentence." 

SOME  FIQURINQ. 

"  It's  the  last  time  !"  exclaimed  Anthony  Hock  as  he  was 
brought  out. 

"  You've  decided  to  quit,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Honor — yesterday  was  my  last  drunk.  I've 
been  counting  up  the  cost,  and  I've  made  up  my  mind  to 
live  sober  and  save  money  after  this." 

"  Anthony  Hock,  you  talk  like  a  man !  It  does  me  good 
to  hear  a  man  speak  up  that  way  in  this  day  and  age.  It's 
like  finding  a  ten-dollar  bill  while  one  is  pawing  over  the 
clothes-basket  to  discover  where  the  hired  girl  flung  his 
Sunday  boots.  Stand  right  up  to  your  resolution,  sir. 
I've  been  figuring  a  little,  and  I  find  that  if  a  man  will  stop 


200 


A    FAMILIAR    FACE. 


drinking  liquor,  tea  and  cofiee,  go  barefooted,  steal  Ms 
wood,  get  trusted  for  liis  provisions,  cheat  the  landlord  out 
of  his  rent,  stand  up  in  church  to  save  pew-rent,  and  live 
economically  in  other  respects,  he  can 
save  at  least  $500  per  year.  Xow  then, 
§500  per  year  for  400  years  is  §200,000. 
Just  think  of  that !  Without  any  elFort 
to  speak  of  you  can  in  time  be  worth 
§200,000  !     You  can  go  home,  sir !" 

FIRST  JOKE. 
Elizabeth  McXamara,  a  woman  fifty 

*^°^°'we^h.°'^  ^°  years  old,  got  off  the  first  joke  of  the 
season  when  she  walked  out  and  boldly  announced  that  it 
was  her  first  appearance  here.  Bijah  laughed  until  his 
spectacles  fell  ofi",  the  clerk  grinned  like  a  copper  mine, 
and  his  Honor  stopped  paring  his  apple,  stuck  his  knife 
into  the  desk  and  replied  : 

"  Elizabeth  MciSTamara,  the  sight  of  that  'ere  front  door 
is  not  more  familiar  to  me  than  the  fact  that  you  have  been 
here  somewhere  in  the  region  of  forty  times.  What's  the 
charge,  this  time  ?" 

"  Taken  a  drap — a  bit  of  a  little  small  drap." 

"  I've  let  you  oiF,  sent  you  up,  expostulated,  pleaded  and 
threatened,  and  yet  you  come  back  here,"  he  said.  "  I  was 
thinking  the  other  day  that  if  I  ever  peered  over  the  desk 
at  your  freckled  nose  again,  and  the  charge  was  drunken- 
ness, I'd  have  you  sawed  in  two  with  a  cross-cut  saw  and 
the  pieces  split  up  for  kindling-wood !" 

"Don't  do  it,  sir — send  me  up  again." 

"  I  shall  make  it  three  months." 

"  I  don't  care — only  don't  saw  me  in  twice !"  she 
gasped. 

"  "Well,"  he  said,  after  pondering  over  the  case,  "  we've 
been  to  §10  expense  to  get  the  saw,  and  Bijah  has  antici- 


bijah's  pun.  201 

pated  great  fun,  but  I'll  see  what  three  months  will  do. 
Go  back  and  sit  down  on  the  stove-hearth  until  the  Black 
Maria  goes  up." 

COULDN'T  STAND  IT. 

"  This  is  Daniel  Casey,"  said  Bijah  as  he  handed  out  the 
last  man,  "  and  I  can  tell  you  why  he  was  drunk." 

""Well." 

"  Casey  wasn't  sober  !"  continued  the  old  janitor. 

His  Honor  regarded  him  for  a  long  time  without  speak- 
ing, but  finally  said : 

"  The  prisoner  can  go,  and,  Bijah,  if  you  ever  sit  down 
on  this  court  with  another  pun  like  that,  and  are  accident- 
ally shot  next  day,  your  friends  musn't  ask  me  for  any 
money  to  help  buy  a  monument." 


THE  LADY  WE  ALL  FEAR. 


BOARD  now,  and  I  think  I  have  one  of  the  kindest 
'JlH  landladies  in  the  world.     She  seems  to  think  a  great 
deal  of  me,  and   I  sometimes  almost  decide  that  I 
should  weep  if  any  harm  were  to  come  to  her. 

She  is  very  particular  about  her  boarders.  Before  she 
would  take  me  in  I  was  compelled  to  get  a  certificate  from 
three  clergjanen,  two  bankers  and  a  lawyer,  stating  that  I 
had  never  been  hung  for  murder  or  sent  to  State  Prison 
for  horse  stealing.  I  bargained  for  a  front  room  looking 
out  on  the  Campus  Martins,  and  it  was  understood  that  I 
was  to  have  the  room  alone.  On  the  third  night  I  went 
home  and  found  a  stranger  in  bed,  and  when  I  began  to 
raise  a  row,  Mrs.  Dolby  caught  my  arm  and  said : 

"  There,  now,  be  a  good,  dear 
man,  and  say  no  more.  He's  a 
preacher,  and  he's  going  away  to- 
morrow. I  thought  you  wouldn't 
mind  it  just  one  night." 

At  the  end  of  the  week  she  beck- 
oned me  aside,  and  smiling  like  a 
load  of  fresh  hay,  she  wanted  to 
know  if  I  would  do  her  a  favor,  a 
favor  which  would  place  her  under 
many  obligations  to  me.  I  replied 
That  Smile.  that  I  would  die  for  her,  and  then 

she  asked  me  to  give  up  the  room  looking  out  upon  the 
202 


FURTHER    CONCESSIONS.  203 

grand  square  and  take  one  looking  out  upon  the  grand 
alley,  full  of  ash-barrels  and  oyster  cans.  She  had  a 
boarder  coming  who  was  awful  particular,  and  she  knew 
that  I  would  do  anything  to  accommodate  her.  I  made 
the  change,  and  the  grateful  look  she  gave  me  was  enough 
to  melt  a  vest  button.  I  had  only  got  fairly  settled  when 
I  was  told  that  she  wanted  to  see  me  in  the  parlor  after 
dinner.  I  found  her  in  tears.  She  said  a  very  nice  man 
and  his  very  nice  wife  w^anted  to  come  and  board  with  her, 
but  she  had  no  room,  and  it  grieved  her  to  think  that  she 
must  turn  them  away  when  she  was  so  hard  pushed  to  get 
along. 

I  told  her  that  if  I  had  a  hundred  lives  I  would  lay  them 
all  down  for  her  and  borrow  a  hundred  more  and  add  to 
the  pile,  and  she  seized  my  hand  and  said  that  Heaven 
would  surely  reward  me  for  being  so  good  to  a  fatherless 
orphan.  I  moved  into  the  garret,  and  the  awful  particu- 
lar man  moved  into  my  room,  and  the  very  nice  man  and 
his  very  nice  wife  moved  into  the  front  room. 

In  another  week  Mrs.  Dolby  whispered  to  me  and 
wanted  to  know  if  I  had  a  snake  in  my  stomach.  She  had 
observed  that  I  was  a  hearty  eater,  and  she  did  not  know 
but  I  had  a  snake.  I  set  her  right,  and  when  I  promised 
to  take  free  lunches  down  town  and  urge  all  the  other 
boarders  to  do  the  same,  she  put  her  hand  on  my  shoulder 
and  remarked  that  Heaven  had  a  place  for  me. 

That  night  my  bed  was  made  without  sheets,  and  when 
I  went  to  raise  a  row  she  took  me  by  the  hand  and  said 
that  her  experience  went  to  show  that  it  w^as  healthier  to 
sleep  without  sheets.  I  was  going  to  argue  the  question, 
when  tears  came  to  her  eyes,  and  she  hoped  I  would  not 
say  anything  to  hurt  a  poor,  lone  widow,  whose  life  had 
been  one  long  struggle  wath  poverty. 

The  next  night  the  feather  bed  and  one  of  the  pillows 


204  LOVE   HER   STILL. 

went,  but  I  didn't  say  anything.  Then  she  wanted  to  borrow 
my  tooth-brush  for  a  boarder  who  hadn't  any,  and  she  took 
my  stove  to  use  in  the  lower  hall.  I  did  not  say  a  word 
until  she  wanted  to  know  if  I  couldn't  spare  the  old  rag- 
carpet  off  the  floor,  and  if  I  wouldn't  set  the  other  boarders 
an  example  by  drinking  nothing  but  water,  and  not  take 
the  second  biscuit.  Then  I  told  her  that  I  was  going  to 
leave  the  house  and  try  to  tear  her  image  from  my  heart. 

She  seized  both  my  hands,  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks, 
and  she  asked : 

"  Mr.  Quad,  would  you  deliberately  plot  to  kill  a  lone- 
some widow,  who  is  working  her  life  out  to  make  your 
position  here  comfortable,  happy  and  luxurious  ?" 

I  couldn't  go.  I'm  here  yet.  I  sleep  on  the  floor,  put 
up  with  cold  bites,  and  use  the  boot-jack  for  a  chair  when 
I  have  company.  I  wish  I  wasn't  so  tender-hearted,  but  I 
can't  bear  to  think  of  hurting  Mrs.  Dolby's  feelings  by 
looking  up  another  place. 


O 


A  DETERMINED  YOUNG  MAN. 


!)T  was  out  on  the  Holden  Road,  near  Detroit,  that  a 
J^  carriage  in  which  was  seated  two  fond  lovers,  was  run 
away  with  by  the  spirited  horse.  As  they  came  dasli- 
ing  past  a  farm  gate  the  farmer  saw  that  the  young  man 
was  making  no  effort  to  check  the  animal,  and  he  yelled : 
"Why  don't  you  stop  that  horse — he's  running  away!" 
"Yes,  I  know  it!"  shouted  the  young  man,  "but  I'll 
keep  my  arm  around  this  girl  if  it  takes  every  spoke  in 
the  wheels !" 

205 


A  PIONEER  JUSTICE. 


!N1E  of  the  counties  in  the  central  part  of 
Michigan,  when  it  had  but  few  inhabitants, 
elected  a  man  named  Goodhue  to  serve 
as  Justice  of  the  Peace.  The  Justice  felt 
the  dignity  of  his  position,  and  he  made  up 
his  mind  at  the  start  that  he  would  take  no 
nonsense  from  the  lawyers. 

His  office  was  the  bar-room  of  a  log 
tavern,  his  desk  a  dry-goods  box,  and  his 
"  docket "  consisted  of  the  two  fly-leaves  in  a  spelling- 
book.  His  first  case  was  the  trial  of  a  man  who  was 
charged  with  stealing  a  rilie.  The  complainant  had  missed 
the  gun  from  his  "  chopping,"  and  it  had  next  been  found 
in  possession  of  the  defendant,  who  was  seeking  to 
exchange  it  for  a  hound. 

The  two  scrub  la^\yers  of  the  village  were  opposed  to 
each  other,  and  as  the  case  was  considered  an  important 
one,  each  attorney  was  prepared  to  cover  the  jury  with  a 
mantle  of  eloquence.  The  Justice  took  his  seat  with  a 
determination  to  have  no  "  fooling  around,"  and  he  soon 
had  opportunity  to  exercise  his  authority. 

"  May  it  please  your  Honor "  commenced  the  prose- 
cution, when  up  rose  Goodhue  and  replied : 
"  Confine  yourself  to  the  case,  sir !" 
The  lawyer  was  taken  aback,  but  after  a  moment  began : 
206 


OBEY    THE    RULES. 


207 


"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury, " 

"  Confine  yourself  to  the  case,  I  say !"  interrupted  the 
Justice. 

"  Why,  I  haven't  begun  yet !"  replied  the  law^^er  in  great 
surprise. 

"  Well,  if  you've  got  anything  to  say  go  ahead  and  say 
it,  but  talk  to  me.  The  jury  has  nothing  to  do  with  this 
case !" 

"  Well,  your  Honor,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  we  propose  to 
prove  that " 


"  Hold  on  !  stop  right  there !"  exclaimed  his  Honor,  "  I 
don't  want  to  hear  w^hat  you  propose  to  prove — I  want  to 
know  what  you  can  prove  !" 

"  It  is  usual,  I  believe,  in  opening  a  case,  to  state " 

"Can't  help  what  it's  usual  to  do!"  interrupted  the 
Court ;  "  this  court  doesn't  care  a  dum  what  other  courts 
have  done  !  If  you  want  to  practice  at  this  bar  you've  got 
to  obey  the  rules !" 


208  wouldn't  take  sass. 

The  lawyer  saw  that  he  had  better  leave  out  his  state- 
ment, and  he  called  his  first  witness,  who  happened  to  be 
a  deaf  man.     As  the  man  took  the  stand  the  lawyer  said : 

"  Now,  Mr.  Brown,  go  on  and  tell  the  jury  what  you 
know  about  this  ease." 

"Tell  who!"  cried  the  Court,  jumping  up.  "I  want 
you  to  understand  that  I'm  trying  this  case !  If  I  ain't 
Judge  here,  who  is  ?" 

"  Well,  tell  the  Court  what  you  know  about  this  case," 
said  the  lawyer  to  his  witness. 

"  Eh  ?"  queried  Brown,  bending  forward. 

"  Tell  the  Court  what  you  know " 

"  Tell  the  Court  nothing !"  exclaimed  Goodhue.  "  The 
man  is  deaf — what  does  he  know  about  this  case !" 

"  Deaf  men  can  see,  can't  they  ?"  asked  the  lawyer. 

"No  sass,  sir,  or  I'll  fine  you  five  thousand  dollars!" 
warned  the  Justice. 

The  lawyer  saw  that  he  couldn't  proceed  with  the  trial, 
and  he  remarked  that  he  rested  his  case  right  there. 

"  Wliat  business  have  you  to  arrest  the  case  ?"  demanded 
his  Honor,  but  the  lawyer  put  on  his  hat  and  left  the  house. 

The  attorney  for  the  defense,  warned  by  the  sad  expe- 
rience of  his  opponent,  made  his  appeal  directly  to  the 
'Court,  saying: 

"Judge,  you  don't  believe  my  client  stole  that  rifle. 
You  can't " 

"  How  do  you  know  I  don't  believe  he  stole  it !"  inter- 
rupted the  Court.     "  Confine  yourself  to  the  case." 

"  I  demand  his  discharge,  on  the  ground  that  the  com- 
plainant has  failed  to  make  out  a  case,"  said  the  lawyer, 
after  a  moment's  thought. 

"  Well,  he  won't  be  discharged !"  replied  his  Honor.  "  I 
know  he  stole  that  gun,  and  I  fine  him  ten  dollars  and 
costs !" 


SHE    KNEW    HERSELF.  209 

"  But  this  is  a  case  for  the  jury  to  decide,"  protested  the 
lawyer. 

"  It  is,  eh!  perhaps  the  people  elected  you  Justice  instead 
of  me !     Perhaps  I  don't  know  anything  about  law !" 

"  The  jury  were  selected  to  decide  on  the  case,  weren't 
they  ?"  demanded  the  attorney. 

"No,  sir!" 

"  "What  for,  then  ?" 

"  None  of  your  business,  sir !  I  fine  you  fifteen  dollars 
for  contempt  of  court,  and  the  prisoner  has  got  to  pay  his 
fine  in  one  hour  or  I'll  send  him  to  State  Prison  for  twelve 
years !" 

That  ended  the  case,  and  the  attorneys  weren't  three 
hours  picking  up  their  traps  and  crossing  the  county  line. 


"TWO  DOLLAR  UND  ZIXTY  CENT!' 


^KE  day  an  old  man  entered  one  of  the  railroad  depots 
in  Detroit,  and  walking  up  to  the  ticket  office  he 
asked : 

"What  you  sharge  for  dicket  to  Lansing?" 

"  Two-sixty,  sir,"  replied  the  agent,  wetting  his  thumh 
and  reaching  out  for  the  money. 

"  Two  dollar  und  zixty  cent !"  exclaimed  the  stranger, 
pulling  his  head  out  of  the  window. 

"  Yes,  sir,  that  is  the  regular  fare." 

"  Then  I  sthays  here  by  Detroit  forty  yare !"  said  the 
man,  getting  red  in  the  face.  "  I  haf  never  seen  such  a 
sch^\^ndle  as  dot!" 

"  Two-sixty  is  the  fare,  and  you  will  have  to  pay  it  if  you 
go,"  replied  the  agent. 

"  I  shust  gif  you  two  dollar,  und  no  more,"  said  the 
stranger. 

"  I^o,  can't  do  it." 

"  Vhell,  den  I  sthays  mit  Detroit  till  I  dies !"  growled 
the  old  man,  and  he  went  away  and  walked  around  the 
depot.  He  expected  to  be  called  back  as  he  left  the  win- 
dow, as  a  man  is  often  called  back  to  "  take  it  along " 
when  he  has  been  chaffing  with  a  clothing  dealer.  Such  an 
event  did  not  occur,  and  after  a  few  minutes  the  old  man 
returned  and  called  out : 

"  Yhell,  I  gif  you  two  dollar  und  ten  cent." 

"  1^0,  can't  do  it,"  replied  the  agent. 
210 


BUT   HE   WENT.  211 

"  Vhel],  den  I  don't  go,  so  help  my  grashus  !  I  haf  lived 
in  Detroit  three  yare,  und  I  shall  bay  bolice  tax,  zewer  tax, 
iind  want  to  grow  up  mit  dis  town,  und  I  shall  not  be 
schwindled !" 

He  walked  off  again,  looking  back  to  see  if  the  agent 
would  not  call  him,  and  after  a  stroll  around  he  returned 
to  the  window,  threw  down  some  money,  and  said : 

"  Yhell,  dake  two  dollars  und  dwenty  cent  und  gif  me 
a  dicket." 

"  ^ly  dear  sir,  can't  you  understand  that  we  have  a 
schedule  of  prices  here,  and  that  I  must  go  by  it  ?"  replied 
the  agent. 

"  Vhell,  den  I  sthays  mit  Detroit  von  tousand  yare !" 
exclaimed  the  stranger,  madder  than  ever.  "  I  bays  bolice 
taxes,  und  zewer  taxes,  und  I  shall  see  about  dis  by  de 
Sheaf  of  Bolice !" 

He  walked  off  again,  and  as  he  saw  the  locomotive  back- 
ing up  to  couple  on  to  the  train  he  went  back  to  the 
window,  and  said : 

"  Gif  me  a  dicket  for  two  dollar  und  dirty  cent,  und  I 
rides  on  de  blatform  !" 

"  Can't  do  it,"  said  the  agent. 

"  Yhell,  den,  py  golly,  I  shpokes  to  you  what  I  doze ! 
Here  is  dem  two  dollar  und  zixty  cent,  und  I  goes  to  Lan- 
sing und  never  comes  pack !  No,  zir,  I  shall  never  come 
pack,  or  I  shall  come  mit  der  blank  road !  I  bays  taxes  by 
dem  bolice,  und  by  dem  zewers,  und  I  shall  show  you  dat 
I  shall  haf  noddings  more  to  do  mit  dis  town !" 

And  he  went  on  the  train. 


JOHN  CAIN. 


k^OKN"  CATN"  was  a  quiet,  unobtrusive  citizen.  He 
J^  didn't  long  for  fame  and  renown,  and  he  didn't  care 
two  cents  whether  this  great  and  glorious  country  was 
ruled  by  a  one-horse  Republican  or  a  two-horse  Democrat. 
He  had  a  pew  in  church,  gave  sixteen  ounces  for  a 
pound,  and  when  a  man  looked  him  square  in  the  eye,  Mr. 
Cain  never  took  a  back  seat.  He  was  home  at  a  reasonable 
hour  in  the  evening,  never  took  part  in  the  discussion,  "  Is 
lager  healthy  ?"  and  many  a  man  wished  his  life  rolled  on 
as  evenly  and  peacefully  as  John  Cain's.  But,  alas !  the 
tempter  came.  In  an  evil  hour  John 
Cain  allowed  the  politicians  to  get 
after  him  and  to  surround  him. 
They  said  he  was  the  strongest  man 
in  the  county ;  that  he  could  scoop 
out  of  his  boots  any  man  set  up  in 
opposition;  that  his  virtues  were 
many,  and  his  faults  00000;  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  come  out  and  take  a 
nomination,  in  order  that  this  pure 
and  incorruptible  form  of  government  be  maintained  pure 
and  incorruptible.  All  this  and  much  more  they  told  him, 
and  John  Cain  became  puffed  up.  It  surprised  him  some 
to  think  that  he  had  held  his  peaceful  way  along  for  forty 
odd  years,  like  knot-hole  in  a  barn  door,  without  any  one 
212 


The  Tempter. 


SOAP   AND    SUGAR. 


213 


having  discovered  what  a  heap  of  a  fellow  he  was,  but  he 
concluded  that  there  was  a  new  era  in  politics,  and  that  it 
was  all  right. 

The  politicians  covered  John  Cain  with  soft  soap.  They 
told  him  that  the  canvass  shouldn't  cost  him  a  red,  and 
that  he  could  still  retire  at  eight  o'clock  every  evening  and 
rest  assured  that  his  interests  would  be  properly  cared  for. 
It  was  to  be  a  still  hunt — a  very  quiet  election,  and  he 
wouldn't  hardly  know  what  was  going  on.  John  Cain 
was  an  honest,  unsuspecting  idiot,  and  he  swallowed  their 
words  as  the  confiding  fish  absorbs  the  baited  hook, 

John  Cain  was  duly  nominated,  and  the  band  came  out 
and  serenaded  him.  With  the  band  came  several  hundred 
electors,  who  filled  the  Cain  mansion  to  overflowing,  spit 
tobacco  all  over  the  house,  ate  and  drank  all  they  could 
find,  broke  down  the  gate,  and  went  oft'  with  three  cheers 
for  John  Cain. 
Before  the  canvass  was  ten  days  old  half  a  dozen  men 
called  on  Cain  and  gently  hinted  to 
him  that  he  must  come  down  with 
the  "  sugar."  He  didn't  even  know 
what  "  sugar  "  was  until  they  kindly 
explained.  They  wanted  money  to 
raise  a  pole,  to  buy  beer,  to  get  slips 
printed,  and  to  do  fifty  other  things 
with,  all  for  his  particular  benefit, 
and  he  had  to  hand  out  the  money. 
In  the  course  of  another  week 
they  drew  Cain  out  to  make  a  speech 
He  tried  to  claw  off",  but  they  told 
him  that  the  opposing  candidate  would  run  him  out  of 
sight  if  he  didn't  come  out,  and  he  went  out.  When  he 
got  through  speaking  the  crowd  drank  at  his  expense,  and 
Mr.  Cain  was  astonished  at  the  way  the  liquor  went  down, 


at  a  ward  meetins*. 


214  SUGAR   AND    LIES. 

and  more  astonished  at  tlie  way  the  bill  footed  up.  He 
didn't  reach  home  until  midnight,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  was  going  to  bed  with  his  boots  on.  His  wife 
wouldn't  speak  to  him,  the  hired  girl  left  the  house  to  save 
her  character,  and  John  Cain  wished  that  the  politicians 
had  let  him  alone. 

More  men  came  and  crooked  their  fingers  at  him  and 
whispered  "  sugar."  They  wanted  money  to  buy  some 
doubtful  votes,  and  to  hire  four-horse  teams,  and  to  mail 
his  slips,  and  he  had  to  come  down.  He  hesitated  about 
it,  but  they  told  him  that  the  opposing  candidate  felt  sure 
of  victory,  and  that  acted  as  a  spur. 

There  was  hardly  a  night  that  from  fourteen  to  two 
hundred  did  not  call  on  Mr.  Cain  to  inform  him  as  to  the 
"prospects."  They  drank  up  the  currant  wine  Mrs.  Cain 
had  laid  by  for  sickness,  emptied  her  preserve  jars,  and 
there  wasn't  a  morning  that  she  couldn't  sweep  out  forty 
or  fifty  cigar  stubs  and  a  peck  of  mud.  They  all  told  Cain 
that  he  would  beat  the  other  man  so  far  out  of  sight  that 
it  would  take  a  carrier  pigeon  to  find  him,  and  he  couldn't 
very  well  refuse  to  go  over  to  the 
corner  grocery  and  "  set  'em  up  " 
for  the  boys. 

On  the  eve  of  election  Mr.  Cain's 
friends  called  for  "sugar"  again, 
and  he  had  to  sugar  'em.  A  big 
crowd  called  to  warn  him  that  he 
would  certainly  be  elected,  and  the 
saloon  bill  was  $28  more.  Thirteen 
Fifth  Ward.  or  fourteen  men  shook  hands  with 

his  wife,  a  hundred  or  more  shook  hands  with  him,  and  he 
had  to  get  up  and  declare  that  he  didn't  favor  woman's 
rights,  and  that  he  did  ;  that  he  was  down  on  whisky,  and 
yet  loved  it  as  a  beverage ;  that  he  wanted  the  currency 


IN   THE   MORNING.  215 

inflated,  and  yet  favored  specie  payments ;  that  lie  favored 
the  Civil  Rights  bill,  and  yet  didn't,  and  in  his  brief  speech 
Mrs.  Cain  counted  twenty-seven  straight  lies,  besides  the 
evasions,  Mr.  Cain  wanted  to  hold  popular  views,  and  he 
had  to  be  on  all  sides  at  once. 

On  the  day  of  election  they  dragged  him  from  poll  to 
to  poll,  stopping  at  all  the  saloons  on  the  way.  He  had 
to  make  two  hundred  and  fifty-six  thousand  promises,  pull 
his  wallet  until  it  was  as  flat  as  a  wafer,  drink  lager  with 
some  and  cold  water  with  others,  and  when  night  came  he 
went  home  and  tried  to  hang  the  hired  girl,  called  Mrs. 
Cain  his  dear  old  rhinoceros,  and  fell  over  the  cradle  and 
went  to  sleep  with  his  head  under  the  stove. 

>*^^\?V         When  Mr.  Cain  arose  in  the  morning 

^fV  ^'il^  y    and  became  sober  enough  to  read  the  elec- 

JWh'  '^1  (^    ^^^^  returns  he  found  he  had  scooped  'em 

V  A,\^v:  y<M  1     -.  as  follows  : 

^'Ife^^ll /Xn^^      Opposing  candidate 36,420 

'^M\M^fM^^       Jolin  Cain 31,380 

/^^^^r^'%iW^^^x  Cain's  majority  (in  a  horn) 5,040 

^^l^Sv^*''/^^>^  Mr.  Cain  went  out  and  sat  down 
In  the  Morning.  under  an  apple  tree  in  his  back  yard, 
and  he  gave  himself  up  to  reflections,  and  so  forth.  And 
through  the  leafless  branches  sighed  the  November  winds, 
and  in  the  house  sighed  Mrs.  Cain,  and  both  sighs  mur- 
mured gently  in  his  ear : 

"  John  Cain's  a  perpendicular  idiot." 


IT  WAS   IN  INDIANA. 


f  REMEMBER  that  it  was  a  soft  summer's  evening, 
and  as  I  leaned  over  the  fence  the  air  was  full  of  buz- 
zing flies  and  humming  mosquitos.  The  deacon  was 
a  good  man — good  for  a  man  brought  up  in  Indiana,  and 
as  he  took  down  the  milk-stool  he  said : 

"  I  s'pose  ye'll  be  at  the  church  festival? Hist  around 

there,  boss  !" 

I  told  him  I  would  try  and  come,  and  as  he  sat  down 
beside  the  cow  he  continued : 

"  By  all  means.     We're  planning  for  a so,  darn  ye, 

so  ! As  I  was  going  to  say,  we're  making  great  expecta- 
tions on so,  I  say !     If  ye  don't  stop  switching  that  tail 

around  here  I'll  cut  it  oiF!" 

"  You  expect  to  have  a  good  time,  deacon  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  know  we  will.     The  committee  on  contributions 

has  reported  that durn  ye,  what  ails  ye,  any  way !    Hist 

over  thar  and  stand  still !" 

"  The  committee,  deacon ?" 

"Yes;    the    committee    has   reported    cash   collections 
amounting  to why  in  tophet  can't  ye  stand  still !" 

"  And  so  you  have  secured  the  funds  ?" 

"  Got  plenty,  and  the  committee  on  preparations  has 

whoa,  there !     K  ye  don't  stop  histin'  yer  feet  I'll  spike 
'em  down !" 

"  There'll  be  a  big  crowd." 
216 


STILL    HISTING.  217 

"  We  count  on  it,  onless  it  should  rain.     The  committee 

on  preparations  has  made  prep sec  here  !  I'll  maul  the 

life  out  o'  ye  'f  ye  don't  stop  dancing  around !  I'd  sell 
this  cow  if  I  could !" 

"  And  there's  to  be  an  excursion  after  the  festival  ?" 

"  Yes ;  we've  chartered  a  train  of  thirteen  cars,  and 

there  you  go  again,  you  old  fiend  you !  Hist  around  now 
and  stand  still!" 

"  Thirteen  will  give  you  plenty  of  room." 

"  Well,  we  don't  want  to  crowd  the  children,  and 

keep  that  ar'  leg  still  or  I'll  maul  ye  with  the  milk-stool !" 

"  At  what  hour  will  the  train  leave  ?" 

"  We  haven't  quite  decided  yet,  but  I  guess  at  about 

now  I  ivill  maul  ye !  There,  take  that !  and  that !  and 
that!" 

After  two  or  three  minutes  he  settled  down  on  the  stool 
again,  and  I  asked  : 

*'  Have  you  selected  the  grove  ?" 

"  Well,  we've  about  decided  on  Bakei;'s,  but liistin' 

them  ar'  feet  again !     Hev  I  got  to  maul  the  horns  off'n 

ye?" 

"  He  wants  pay,  does  he  ?" 

"  ISTo — not  any  money,  but  Baker  don't  seem  to ^thar 

goes  that  dum  tail  again  !  and  them  hoofs  keep  a  raisin' !" 

"  Who  are  the  main  committee  ?" 

"Well,   thar's    mean  Johnson   and dancin'  around 

again !  If  ye  don't  stand  still  I'll  git  up  'n  pound  ye  all  to 
pieces !" 

"  I  suppose  Durney  is  on  ?" 

"  Yaas ;  there's  mean  Johnson,  and  Durney,  and now 

by  gum  'f  I  (hn't  wollop  ye !  How's  that !  and  that ! 
and 1" 

The  cow  disappeared  over  the  hill,  the  deacon  in  full 
chase,  and  I  took  the  dusty  highway  again. 


HIS  EARLY  LOVES. 


iH !  I'm  not  so  old  but  that  I  remember  Kitty  Glenn, 
my  first  love.  We  sat  in  school  together,  and  the 
morning  I  showed  her  my  sore  thumb,  and  she  wept  with 
me,  was  the  morning  love  was  first  developed  in  my  heart. 
I  suddenly  discovered  that  the  little  tangle-haired,  freckled- 
nose  child  was  the  handsomest  girl  in  school,  and  at  noon 
we  traded  slices  of  bread  and  butter,  took  alternate  bites 


from  my  piece  of  pumpkin  pie,  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  marry  her.  I  tried  to  get  a  chance  to  propose  to  her  as 
we  walked  home  from  school,  but  her  big  sister  was  along 
and  I  dared  not  speak. 

218 


HE    IS    ACCEPTED. 


219 


That  night  I  licked  my  brother  Ben  for  calling  Kitty's 
father  "  Old  Glenn ;"  and  I  got  so  worried  and  anxious  that 
mother — bless  her  gray  hairs! — came  up  stairs,  put  her 
hand  on  my  head  and  declared  her  belief  that  I  ought  to 
have  some  horse-raddish  drafts  on  my  feet. 

It  seemed  as  if  morning  would  never  come,  but  it  finally 
did,  and  I  was  at  the  school-house  half  an  hour  before  any 
one  else.  I  had  it  all  planned  out,  and  as  soon  as  Kitty 
arrived  I  beckoned  her  one  side,  presented  her  with  three 
buckeyes  and  a  seek-no-further  apple,  and  said : 

"  Kitty,  I  think  I  will  marry  you  !" 

"I  wish  you  would!"  she  replied,  as  she  untied  my 
comforter. 

"  Well,  all  right.  You  musn't  let  Burt  Turner  carry 
your  dinner-basket  any  more,  and  you  musn't  let  Bob 
Haynes  draw  you  on  his  sled." 

"  I'll  ask  mother  this  very  night  if  she  won't  let  us  keep 
house  in  the  woodshed !"  exclaimed  my  betrothed,  and  a 


-    ^S 


great  burden  was  rolled  off 
my  mind.  I'd  been  won- 
dering whether  we  should 
board  or  keep  house. 

Ah  !  wasn't  I  happy  for 
two  weeks  !  I  lived  in  a 
sort  of  Heaven  by  myself, 
and  my  dreams  were  worth 
five  thousand  dollars  per 
night.  Then  Kitty  and  I 
fell  out.  Her  mother  gave 
her  a  spanking  when  she 
learned  that  she  was  "  en- 
gaged," and  mother  drew 
me  over  her  knee,  reached  for  the  press-board,  and  mildly 
remarked  that  I  had  needed  a  hammering  for  many  days 


A  Kneed  Supplied. 


220  FALLS    OUT,  AND    LOVES    AGAIN. 

past.  In  another  week  more  I  could  hear  the  boys  speak 
of  my  "  late  darling  "  as  "  tow-headed  tom-boy  "  and  never 
feel  a  ripple  of  indignation. 

I  loved  again  when  I  had  arrived  at  the  age  of  ten.  It 
was  not  a  sudden  love,  coming  upon  me  like  a  man  slip- 
ping down,  but  it  was  budding  for  weeks  and  weeks  before 
it  finally  blossomed.  It  was  a  woman  this  time — an  old 
maid  called  Aunt  Jane.  She  gave  me  five  cents  to  chase 
a  cow  out  of  the  lot,  paid  me  for  going  to  the  store  after  a 
fine  comb ;  kissed  me  for  taking  a  letter  to  the  post-office, 
and  my  admiration  grew  day  by  day. 

One  evening,  when  I  heard  mother  saying  that  Aunt 
Jane  was  good-hearted,  and  deserved  a  good  husband,  my 
pent-up  love  frothed  up  like  soap-suds.  I  resolved  to  marry 
Aunt  Jane  forthwith,  and  to  love  and  cherish  her  to  the 
last  ditch. 

I  had  another  restless  night,  principally  because  I  could 
not  decide  whether  we  should  be  married  by  a  Methodist 
or  a  Baptist  minister,  and  whether  we'd  have  a  regular 
door-bell  to  our  house  or  a  gong  which  turned  by  a  silver- 
plated  handle. 

I  remember  with  what  confidence  I  entered  the  neigh- 
bor's house  wherein  Aunt  Jane  was  employed  to  do  house- 
work. I  found  her  in  the  kitchen,  passing  some  slices  of 
fat-pork  to  the  hot  spider,  and  I  thought  I  had  never  seen 
her  look  so  lovely.  I  walked  straight  over  to  her,  threw 
my  arms  around  her  neck,  and  said : 

"  Aunt  Jane,  I  want  to  marry  you  !" 

"  Sakes  to  stars  !"  she  exclaimed,  holding  the  last  piece 
of  pork  poised  on  the  fork. 

"  I  love  you,  and  I'll  marry  you  to-day !"  I  went  on. 

She  put  down  the  meat,  gently  slid  out  of  my  arms,  and 
placing  her  hand  on  my  head  she  solemnly  said : 

"  My  dear  boy,  I'm  old  enough  to  be  your  mother !  You 
mustn't  think  of  getting  married  for  fifteen  years  yet !" 


TlIIllD    TIME    AND    OUT. 


:2i 


I  rushed  out  of  the  liouso,  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  I  went 
down  to  the  creek,  fell  upon  the  grass,  and  wept  long  and 
hitterly  over  my  great  sorrow.  I  made  a  solemn  vow  never 
to  marry  any  one  as  long 
as  I  lived,  but  four  weeks 
after  that  I  was  in  love 
with  a 
store. 

Ah' 


men  can  look  back  and  call  up  just  such  recollections  of 
long  ago,  and  yet  we  cannot  smile  over  them — there  are 
too  many  graves  between  us  and  childhood. 


HE  SAID  "CUSS." 


ANY  people  noticed  him  as  he  sat 
on  the  curb-stone  at  the  corner, 
head  in  his  hands.  He  wore  a 
l^:^^  coat  of  wolf-skins,  a  bearskin 
r  *»>  cap,  buckskin  breeches,  and  his 
grizzly  hair  hung  down  on  his 
shoulders  in  a  tangled  mass. 
He  had  drifted  east  from  the  wild  frontier,  and  he  had 
fallen  sick.  No  one  knew  for  a  long  time  what  ailed  him, 
as  he  would  not  reply  to  questions,  but  finally,  when  a 
policeman  shook  his  arm  and  repeated  the  inquiry,  the  man 
slowly  lifted  his  head  and  replied : 
"I'm  played!" 

His  face  was  pale  and  haggard,  and  it  was  plain  that  he 
was  going  to  have  an  attack  of  fever.  He  was  sent  to  the 
hospital  for  treatment,  he  making  no  inquiries  and  answer- 
ing no  questions.  He  had  his  personal  effects  in  a  sort  of 
sack.  There  was  a  breech-loading  rifle,  a  hatchet,  a  knife 
and  several  other  articles,  and  when  he  had  been  laid  on  a 
bed  in  one  of  the  wards  he  insisted  that  the  sack  be  placed 
under  his  head.  They  oflered  him  medicine,  but  he  turned 
away  his  face,  and  no  argument  could  induce  him  to  swal- 
low any. 

222 


NOTHING    BUT    "  CUSS."  22o 

"  But  you  are  a  sick  man,"  said  tlie  doctor,  as  lie  held  the 
medicine  up. 

"  Cuss  sickness  !"  replied  the  old  man. 

"  But  you  may  die  !" 

*'  Cuss  death  \" 

He  grew  worse  as  the  days  went  by,  and  was  sometimes 
out  of  his  head  and  talking  strange  talk  of  Indian  fights 
and  buffalo-hunts,  but  not  once  did  he  speak  of  family, 
friends  or  of  himself.  He  would  not  let  them  undress 
him,  comb  his  hair  or  show  him  any  attention  beyond 
leaving  his  food  on  the  stand.  A  raging  fever  was  burn- 
ing up  his  s^-stem,  and  when  the  doctors  found  that  the 
old  man  would  not  take  their  medicines  they  knew  that 
death  was  only  a  matter  of  days. 

He  must  have  had  an  iron  constitution  and  a  heart  like 
a  warrior,  for  he  held  Death  at  arm's  length  for  many  days. 
When  it  was  seen  that  he  could  last  but  a  few  hours  longer 
the  nurse  asked  him  if  a  clergyman  should  be  called. 

"  Cuss  clergymen  !"  replied  the  old  man,  those  being  the 
first  words  he  had  spoken  for  three  days. 

However,  two  hours  after,  his  mind  wandered,  and  he 
sat  up  in  bed  and  called  out : 

"  I  tell  ye,  the  Lord  isn't  goin'  to  be  hard  on  a  feller  who 
has  fit  Injuns !" 

He  was  quiet  again  until  an  hour  before  his  death,  when 
the  nurse  made  one  more  effort,  and  asked : 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  name  ?" 

"  Cuss  my  name  !"  replied  the  old  man. 

"  Haven't  you  any  friends  ?" 

"  Cuss  friends !" 

"Do  you  wish  us  to  send  your  things  to  any  one  ?" 

"Cuss  any  one!" 

"  Do  you  realize,"  continued  the  nurse,  "  that  you  are 
very  near  the  grave  ?" 


224  wasn't  it  strange? 

"  Cuss  the  grave  ?"  was  the  monotonous  reply. 

No  further  questions  were  asked,  and  during  the  next 
hour  the  strange  old  man  dropped  quietly  asleep  in  death, 
uttering  no  word  and  making  no  sign.  When  they  came 
to  remove  the  clothing  and  prepare  the  body  for  the  grave, 
what  do  you  suppose  they  found  carefully  wrapped  in  oil- 
skin and  lying  on  his  breast  ?  A  daguerreot_j'pe  picture  of 
a  little  girl !  It  was  taken  years  and  years  ago,  and  when 
the  child  was  five  or  six  years  old.  The  face  of  the  little 
one  was  fair  to  look  upon,  and  the  case  which  held  it  had 
been  scarred  by  bullets.  There  were  a  dozen  scars  on  the 
old  man's  body  to  prove  that  he  had  lived  a  wild  life,  but 
there  was  not  a  line  among  his  effects  to  reveal  his  name 
or  the  name  of  the  child  whose  picture  he  had  worn  on 
his  breast  for  years  and  years.  Who  was  she  ?  His  own 
darling,  perhaps.  He  would  not  have  treasured  the  picture 
80  carefully  unless  there  was  love  in  his  heart. 

No  one  would  believe  that  the  wolf-skin  coat  covered  a 
heart  which  could  feel  love  or  tenderness,  but  it  did.  He 
might  have  been  returning  home  after  years  of  weary  wan- 
dering, or  he  might  have  left  the  frontier  to  be  sure  of  a 
christian  burial  and  hoping  that  no  unsympathetic  eye 
would  fall  upon  the  picture. 

Some  said  keep  it,  hoping  to  make  it  identify  the  old 
man,  but  others  laid  it  back  on  the  battle-scarred  breast 
which  had  preserved  it  so  long,  and  it  was  there  when  they 
buried  him. 


IN  THE  CHIMNEY  CORNER. 


^  SAT  and  watched  liim  as  lie  softly  rocked  to  and  fro. 
JTlL  It  was  an  old-fashioned  fire-place,  and  he  was  rocking 
in  an  old-fashioned  splint-bottomed  chair,  which  was 
likewise  a  veteran  in  years. 

There  was  something  so  good,  so  kind  and  tender  in  his 
face  that  I  could  not  turn  my  eyes  away.  His  hair  was 
white  as  snow,  his  eyes  weak,  and  the  hand  resting  on  the 
arm  of  the  chair  trembled  with  the  helplessness  of  age. 

The  logs  burned  brightly  on  the  andirons,  and  as  the  old 
man  sat  and  gazed  into  the  flame,  he  must  have  compared 
his  life  to  it.  It  rose  and  fell,  wavered  and  struggled  to 
climb  up,  fell  back  and  rose  again,  just  as  men  struggle 
against  fate.  There  were  charred  brands  to  remind  him 
of  crushed  hopes — ashes  to  make  him  remember  his  dead. 
I  saw  his  face  brighten  at  times,  and  then  again  it  was 
covered  with  a  shade  of  sadness,  and  the  hand  shook  a 
little  faster  as  he  remembered  the  graves  on  the  hill-side 
and  those  who  had  slept  in  them  for  so  many  long  years. 

By  and  by  the  flames  fell,  and  the  old  room  was  filled 
with  shadows,  which  ran  over  the  floor,  climbed  the  walls 
and  raced  along  the  ceiling.  Sometimes  they  covered  the 
old  man's  face,  but  leaped  away  again,  as  if  fearing  rebuke. 
Sometimes  they  drew  together  in  a  corner  and  whispered 
to  each  other,  and  the  fall  of  an  ember  would  send  them 
dancing  around. 

0  225 


226  IN    HEAVEN. 

I  was  but  a  child,  and  the  shadows  made  me  afraid.  I 
wished  the  old  man  would  lift  his  eyes  and  speak  to  me, 
telling  me  his  life's  story,  but  he  kept  his  gaze  on  the  burn- 
ing logs  as  if  they  were  a  magnet  to  draw  him  closer  and 
closer.  I  watched  the  shadows  until  I  fell  asleep.  Strange, 
sweet  music  came  to  my  ears,  and  the  shadows  were 
replaced  by  a  golden  light  and  a  sky  so  blue  and  pure  that 
I  tried  to  reach  up  and  grasp  it.  Soft  voices  chanted  in 
harmony  with  the  music,  and  by  and  by  I  saw  an  angel 
leading  an  old  man  and  helping  him  over  the  rugged  path 
which  stretched  out  before  me  until  it  touched  the  golden 
gates  of  Heaven.  They  went  on  and  on,  and  when  they 
were  lost  to  view  I  suddenly  awoke. 

The  fire  had  burned  still  lower,  and  there  were  more 
shadows  in  the  room ;  the  old  man  sat  there  yet,  but  the 
chair  no  longer  moved,  and  his  hand  had  ceased  to  trem- 
ble. I  crept  softly  over  to  him  and  laid  my  hand  on  his. 
It  was  cold.     I  shook  him  gently,  but  he  did  not  answer. 

The  old  man  was  dead !  While  I  slept  the  shadows  had 
brought  an  angel  to  lead  him  into  Heaven. 


CHRISTOPHER  COLUMBUS  MCPHERSON. 


tins  boy  was  a  good  boj.  He  would  have  been  an 
angel  to-day  but  for  the  deceit  of  this  false-hearted 
world.  He  wasn't  one  of  a  lot  of  triplets,  and  therefore 
didn't  have  honors  showered  down  upon  him  in  his  early 
days,  but  old  women  said  there  was  foundation  there  for 
an  orator,  a  great  general  or  a  philosopher,  and  old  men 
examined  his  head  and  said  it  was  level.  ISTothing  particu- 
lar happened  to  Christopher  Columbus  until  the  eighth 
year  of  his  reign.  His  childhood  days  were  full  of  mud- 
pies,  the  butt-ends  of  shingles,  paregoric,  castor  oil,  and 
old  straw  hats  with  the  front  brim  worn  oif.  He  was  a 
deep  thinker  and  a  close  observer  for  a  small  boy,  and  he 
was  just  innocent  enough  to  believe  things  which  other 
boys  pitch  out  of  the  window  without  a  second  thought. 

When  Christopher  was  going  on  nine  years  old  he  heard 
some  one  say  that  a  "  penny  saved  was  two  pence  earned." 
He  therefore  laid  a  big  bungtown  away  in  a  crack  under 
the  mop-board,  and  every  day  he  looked  to  see  it  grow  to 
two  cents.  He  had  confidence  and  patience,  but  at  length 
both  gave  way.  Then  he  got  the  cent  out  one  day,  and 
Mrs.  ISTorton's  baby  swallowed  it,  and  that  was  the  last  of 
that  bungtown.  The  youthful  Christopher  didn't  believe 
in  maxims  quite  as  much  as  before,  but  he  hadn't  cut  all 
his  eye-teeth  yet. 

Wlien  the  boy  was  a  year  older  he  heard  it  said  that 
"  truth  was  mighty  and  must  prevail,"  and  that  a  boy  who 
227 


228  TRUTH   AND    HONESTY   NOWHERE. 

always  spoke  the  trutli  would  surely  make  a  great  and 
good  man.  He  commenced  to  tell  the  truth.  One  day  he 
got  his  father's  best  razor  out  and  hacked  it  on  a  stone,  and 
when  the  old  gent  came  home  and  asked  who  in  blazes  had 
done  that,  Christopher  Columbus  spoke  up  and  said : 

"  It  was  I,  father — I  notched  your  old  razor." 

*'  You  did,  eh  V  sneered  the  old  man,  as  he  looked  up 
into  a  peach-tree ;  "  well  I'll  fix  you  so  you  won't  never 
notch  another  razor  for  jne  /" 

And  he  cut  a  budding  limb  and  dressed  that  boy  down 
until  the  youth  saw  stars.  That  night  Christopher  Colum- 
bus determined  never  to  tell  the  truth  again  unless  by 
accident,  and  all  through  life  he  stuck  to  the  resolution. 

When  the  lad  was  about  twelve  years  old  he  read  in  a 
little  book  that  "  honesty  was  the  best  policy."  He  didn't 
more  than  half  believe  it,  but  he  thought  he'd  try.  He 
went  to  being  honest.  One  day  his  mother  sent  him  to  the 
grocery  to  buy  eggs,  and  Bill  Jones  induced  him  to  squan- 
der the  change  in  the  purchase  of  soda-water.  Wlien  he 
got  home  his  mother  asked  him  for  the  little  balance,  and 
Christopher  ex|:)lained. 

"  Spent  it  for  soda,  ch  ?"  she  replied.  "  Here  your  poor 
old  mother  is  working  like  a  slave,  and  you  are  around 
swilling  down  soda  water-water !  I  don't  think  you'll  swill 
any  more,  I  don't.     Come  over  my  right  knee." 

And  she  agitated  him  in  the  liveliest  manner.  That 
night  as  he  turned  on  his  downy  straw-bed  the  boy  made 
up  his  mind  that  honesty  didn't  pay,  and  he  resolved  to 
cheat  the  whole  world  if  he  could. 

Ynien  Christoplier  was  half  a  year  older  he  came  across 
the  injunction  "  Be  kind  to  the  poor."  He  did  not  know 
whether  it  would  pay  or  not,  but  he  set  about  it.  He  knew 
of  a  poor  woman  who  sadly  needed  a  spring  bonnet,  and 
lie  took  over  his  mother's,  along  with  a  few  other  things, 


FINALLY    HUNG    UIM.  229 

including  his  father's  second  pair  of  boots,  his  own  Sunday 
shoes,  and  so  on.  He  went  around  feeling  very  big-hearted 
until  the  old  gent  wanted  to  go  to  the  lodge  one  night,  and 
then  it  came  out. 

"  Gin  away  my  boots,  eh  ?"  inquired  the  father ;  "  lugged 
your  mother's  best  bonnet  off,  eh  ?  Well,  I  don't  think 
you'll  remember  the  poor  very  much  after  to-night!" 

And  he  pounded  Christopher  Columbus  with  a  pump- 
handle  until  the  boy  fainted  away,  and  even  then  didn't 
feel  as  though  he  had  made  a  thorough  job  of  it. 

They  fooled  this  boy  once  more.  He  heard  a  rich  man 
say  that  everybody  "  should  make  hay  while  the  sun 
shone."  So  when  there  came  a  sunny  day  he  went  out, 
took  his  father's  scythe  down  from  the  plum-tree  and  went 
to  making  hay.  He  broke  the  scythe,  cut  down  the  tulips 
and  hacked  his  sister  in  the  heel,  and  his  mother  came  out 
and  led  him  around  by  the  hair,  and  bounced  him  until  he 
almost  went  into  a  decline.  They  couldn't  bamboozle  this 
boy  after  that.  He  grew  wicked  every  day  of  his  life,  and 
before  his  eighteenth  birthday  arrived  he  was  hung  for 
murder.  He  said  he  didn't  care  a  huckleberry  about  it, 
and  died  without  making  the  usual  Fourth  of  July  oration. 


THE  SOLEMN  BOOK  AGENT. 


t  E  was  tall  and  solemn,  and  dignified. 
X)  One  would  have  thought  him  a 
Roman  Senator,  on  his  way  to 
make  a  speech  on  finance;  but 
he  wasn't — singularly  enough,  he 
wasn't.  He  was  a  book  agent. 
He  wore  a  linen  duster,  and  his 
brow  was  furrowed  with  many 
care-lines,  as  if  he  had  been 
obliged  to  tumble  out  of  bed  every  other  night  of  his  life 
to  dose  a  sick  child.  He  called  into  a  tailor-shop,  removed 
his  hat,  took  his  "  Lives  of  Eminent  Philosophers  "  from  its 
cambric  bag,  and  approached  the  tailor  with : 
"  I'd  like  to  have  you  look  at  this  rare  work." 
"  I  haf  no  time,"  replied  the  tailor. 

"  It  is  a  work  which  every  thinking  man  should  like  to 
peruse,"  continued  the  agent. 
"  Zo  ?"  said  the  tailor. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  work  on  which  a  great  deal  of  deep  thought 
has  been  expended,  and  it  is  pronounced  by  such  men  as 
"Wendell  Phillips  to  be  a  work  ^\ithout  a  rival  in  modern 
literature." 

"  Makes  anybody  laf  when  he  zees  it?"  asked  the  tailor. 
230 


NOT   A   RECEIPT   BOOK. 


231 


"  No,  my  friend,  this  is  a  deep,  profound  work,  as  I  have 
already  said.  It  deals  with  such  characters  as  Theocritus,. 
Socrates,  and  Plato,  and  Kalph  Waldo  Emerson.  If  yoti 
desire  a  work  on  which  the  most  eminent  author  of  our 
day  has  spent  years  of  study  and  research,  you  can  find 
nothing  to  compare  with  this." 

"  Does  it  slipeak  about  how  to  glean  gloze  ?"  anxiously 
asked  the  man  of  the  goose. 

"My  friend,  this  is  no  receipt  book,  but  an  eminent 
work  on  philosophy,  as  I  have  told  you.  Years  were  con- 
sumed in  preparing  this  volume  for  the  press,  and  none 
but  the  clearest  mind  could  have  grasped  the  subject  herein 
discussed.  If  you  desire  food  for  deep  meditation  you 
have  it  here." 

"Does  dis  pook  zay  zura- 
ding  apout  der  Brussian 
war?"  asked  the  tailor  as 
he  threaded  his  needle. 

"  My  friend,  this  is  not 
an  everyday  book,  but  a 
work  on  philosophy — a 
work  which  will  soon  be 
in  the  hands  of  every  pro- 
found thinker  in  the  coun- 
try. "What  is  the  art  of 
philosophy?  This  book 
tells  you.  Who  were  and 
who  are  our  philosophers  ? 
Turn  to  these  pages  for  a 
reply.  As  I  said  before,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  do  with- 
out it." 

"  Und  he  don't  haf  any  dings  apout  some  fun,  eh  ?" 
inquired  the  tailor  as  the  book  was  held  out  to  him. 

"  My  friend,  must  I  again  inform  you  that  this  is  not  an 


232  "  ROUSE    MIT    HIM  !" 

ephemeral  work — not  a  collection  of  nauseous  trash,  but  a 
rare,  deep  work  on  philosophy.  Here,  see  the  name  of  the 
author.  That  name  alone,  sir,  should  be  proof  enough  to 
your  mind  that  the  work  cannot  be  surpassed  for  pro- 
fundity of  thought.  Why,  sir,  Gerrit  Smith  testifies  to  the 
greatness  of  this  volume  !" 

*'  I  not  knows  Mr.  Schmidt — I  make  no  gloze  mit  him," 
returned  the  tailor  in  a  doubting  voice. 

"  Then  you  will  let  me  leave  your  place  without  having 
secured  your  name  to  this  volume  !  I  cannot  believe  it ! 
Behold  what  research !  Turn  these  leaves  and  see  these 
gems  of  richest  thought !  Ah  !  if  we  only  had  such  minds 
and  could  wield  such  a  pen !  But  we  can  read,  and  in  a 
measure  we  can  be  like  him.  Every  family  should  have 
this  noble  work.  Let  me  put  your  name  down ;  the  book 
is  only  twelve  dollars." 

"  Zwelve  dollar  for  der  pook !  Zwelve  dollar !  und  he 
has  noddings  apout  der  war,  und  no  fun  in  him,  or  zay 
noddings  how  to  glean  gloze !  AVTiat  you  dake  me  for, 
mister  ?  Go  right  away  mit  dat  pook,  or  I  call  der  bolice 
und  haf  you  locked  up  pooty  quick  I" 


AN  HOUR  AT  THE  CENTRAL  STATION  COURT. 


til  'ol  DO^'T  remember,"  said  Bijah,  as  the  reporters 
■f  .  (^  came  in,  "  whether  Shakespeare,  Susan  B.  Anthony 
or  Ben  Butler  wrote  it,  but  it's  a  very  aitecting  song,  and 
lately  it  has  been  running  in  my  ears  half  the  time.     I'll 

sing  a  verse ; 

'His  name  it  was  Jack, 
His  father  drove  hack, 
Plain  sewing  his  mother  did  do; 
And  a  brotlier  of  his 
In  position  had  riz 
To  sweep  out  an  office  or  two.'" 

The  old  janitor  was  proceeding  with  the  next  verse,  when 

his   Honor  came 
M^  in  and  squelched 
i^  him — said  that  a 
V  couple  of  cats  had 
kept  him  awake 
i'^i  half  the   night, 
and  he  didn't  care 
about    finishing 
off  with  the  notes 
of  a  horse-fiddle  or  a  tin-pan  serenade. 

JOSEPH  BRACEWELL 

Was  the  first  candidate  out.     His  name  was  well  braced, 

but  his  character  wasn't.     Ho  had  been  loafing  around  for 

2^3 


234  UP   AND    OUT. 

a  week  or  two  on  the  ragged  edge  of  despair,  sleeping  on 
a  soft  pair  of  stairs  or  in  a  dry  goods  box,  and  although 
the  prospect  of  ever  having  a  dollar  in  his  pocket,  or  of 
securing  a  square  meal,  was  as  uncertain  as  keeping  a 
boarding-house  in  Chicago,  he  didn't  want  the  police  to 
disturb  him. 

"  You'd  better  go  up,"  remarked  his  Honor,  after  hear- 
ing the  prisoner's  story. 

"  Oh  !  lemme  go  this  time  !" 

"  E"o — can't  do  it.  What  would  be  said  of  me  if  it  was 
known  that  I  encouraged  vagrancy  ?" 

*'  But  I'll  go  into  the  country." 

"  The  country  doesn't  sigh  for  thee,  Mr.  Bracewell." 

"  Then  I'll  go  to  Canada." 

"  You'd  become  a  frozen  statue  in  less'n  two  hours  over 
there.  Xo,  Mr.  Bracewell,  I  shall  have  to  make  it  sixty 
days.  That  will  let  you  out  in  March,  just  when  the 
solidity  of  winter  is  giving  way  to  the  mush  of  spring,  and 
even  if  you  can't  strike  a  job  then,  the  nights  won't  be  so 
cold." 

LAST  TIME. 

Mary  Ann  McClellan  wiped  a  tear  away  and  choked 
back  a  sob  as  she  admitted  the  charge  of  drunkenness,  but 
she  protested  that  intoxication  came  from  some  brandy 
which  she  was  using  to  cure  toothache.  She  was  very 
penitent,  and  if  his  Honor  would  only  let  her  go  this  time 
her  teeth  might  all  jump  out  of  her  head  before  she  would 
resort  to  brandy  again. 

"I  duuno — I  dunno,"  mused  the  Court  as  he  rubbed 
his  ear. 

"  Just  this  once  !"  she  sighed. 

"  Seems  as  if  I  might,  and  I  guess  I  will.  But  you  must 
look  upon  this  as  a  hair-breadth  escape.     If  there  were  not 


A    FACE   AT   THE   WINDOW. 


235 


some  redeeming  features  in  the  case  I'd  send  you  where 
you  wouldn't  have  a  taste  of  canned  peaches  for  six  months. 
Don't  have  any  more  toothache,  Mrs.  McClellan.  Fare- 
well, Mary  Ann — you  can  go." 

"  I'm  many  times  obliged  to  you,"  she  said  as  she  made 
her  bow,  and  when  she  got  out  of  the  door  a  red-nosed  boy 
yelled  out  : 

"  She's  making  up  faces  at  this  'ere  court !" 

It  was  too  late  to  catch 
her,  and  Bijah  called  out: 

'' LITTLE  NELLy 

"Miss  Baldwin,  I  be- 
lieve ?"  said  his  Honor,  as 
she  leaned  over  the  railing. 

"  The  same,"  she  replied, 
with  a  smile. 

"  And  you  were  here  the 
other  day  on  this  same 
charge  of  drunkenness?" 

"  Not  I — my  sister." 

"She  looks  like  you,  eh?" 

Making  Up  Faces.  "  Very  mUch." 

"  And  she  also  gets  drunk  ?" 

"  Once  in  a  while." 

"  Miss  Baldwin,  it  is  my  solemn  duty  to  inform  you  that 
you  can't  hoodwink  this  court.  You've  been  here  a  dozen 
times  to  my  knowledge,  and  you  never  had  a  sister.  I 
knew  you  the  moment  I  caught  sight  of  those  dozen 
freckles  on  your  nose,  and  I'm  going  to  put  on  a  few  extra 
days  for  your  baseness  in  seeking  to  put  up  a  job  on  me. 
The  sentence  is  ninety  days." 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  after  the  court  ?"  she  asked. 

"  You  can  leave  any  word  with  Bijah  which  you  wish 


236 


HUM  S    THE    WORD. 


conveyed  to  me.  He  is  trustworthy,  and  whatever  you  tell 
him  will  be  received  as  a  sacred  secret.  As  soon  as  court 
closes  I  want  my  breakfast,  and  I  can't  tarry  here.  Go 
back  and  sit  down,  and  you  shall  be  conveyed  to  the  House 
of  Correction  in  as  good  style  as  is  consistent  with  safety 
and  comfort." 

A  PROSPECTIVE  REWARD. 

"  Here  !     Who's  this  ?"  exclaimed  the  Court  as  Joseph 
Eldner  was  brought  out. 

"  Made  a  fool  o'  myself,  as  usual !"  replied  the  farmer. 
"  Got  drunk,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes ;  came  down  to  Detroit  yesterday,  looked  around, 
got  tight,  and  I'm  busted  for  cash." 
"  Never  was  here  before  ?" 

"^N'o — never  saw  your  darned  old  town  before  in  my 
life !" 

"  And  you  live — where  ?" 
"  Way  up  in  the  woods." 
"  Can  you  get  home  ?" 
"  Hum's  the  word  with  me." 
"  Well,  you  want  to  be  more  care- 
ful in  the  future.     It's  a  wonder  some 
one  didn't  roll  you  into  the  river.     I 
guess  I'll  let  you  go  this  time." 
"  You  will  ?" 
"  Yes,  you  may  go." 
"Bully  for  you,  pard!"  exclaimed 
the  man,  extending  his  claw  for  a 
shake.     "I'm  agoing  straight  hum! 
^^^^  I  can  walk  it  in  two  days,  and  I'll  tell 
Off  Fob  Hum.  the  old  womau  that  the  cars  busted 

and  I  lost  my  money !     I'll  make  this  thing  all  right — I'll 
send  you  down  a  bear  I" 


THOSE    SAD    STRAINS.  237 

He  got  right  out,  and  as  soon  as  the  Maria  could  be 
loaded  up  the  boys  joined  hands,  circled  around  the  coal 
stove  and  sang : 

"Human  nature's  weak  and  frail, 
Every  day  we  hear  the  wail — 
Every  day  we  see  'em  sail 
To  the  jug." 


A   BRIBE. 


RAGGED,  forlorn-looking 
boy  was  strolling  around 
the   Southern    depot    in 
Detroit  one  day,  smok- 
ing the  stub  of  a 
cigar  and  keeping 
an  eye  out  for  an 
easy  job,  when  a  philanthropist,  in  waiting   for  a  train, 
handed  out  ten  cents,  and  remarked : 
"  Take  it,  bub ;  I  feel  sorry  for  you." 
"  1^0  yer  don't,"  exclaimed  the  boy,  drawing  back. 
"Why,  it's  a  free  gift — I  don't  ask  anything  for  it," 
replied  the  man. 

"I  know  you,"  continued  the  boy,  his  eyes  twinkling; 
"  you  want  me  to  promise  to  grow  up  and  become  Presi- 
dent, and  I  ain't  going  to  tie  myself  up  for  any  man's  ten 
cents!" 

238 


JOHN  BLOSS,  MINER. 


f  REMEMBER  that  tlie  news  of  his  death  startled  me, 
though  he  was  such  an  old  drinker  that  he  was  never 
clear  of  "  snakes,"  and  the  camp  had  been  expecting 
his  death  for  a  week. 

We'd  been  having  healthy  times  for  months  past,  and 
old  John's  death  was  sufficient  excuse  for  most  of  the  men 


knocking  otF  work  for  the  day.  I  went  up  to  the  shanty 
where  the  body  lay,  and  a  dozen  silver-diggers  were  sitting 
around  the  door  and  discussing  the  many  virtues  of  the 
late  deceased. 

239 


240  DECIDE    ON    A    MONUMENT. 

The  truth  was,  old  John  had  been  a  plague  to  every 
camp  in  the  diggings.  He  was  light-fingered,  a  great 
loafer,  a  persistent  beggar,  and  when  he  got  the  tremens  it 
took  half  the  men  in  camp  to  hold  him.  However,  these 
faults  were  passed  over  by  the  crowd,  and  as  I  came  up 
"  Old  Scraps,"  as  they  called  a  giant  miner,  was  saying : 

"  Poor  old  John !  We  may  loaf  around  this  world  a 
million  years  and  never  see  his  likes  agin !" 

"That's  so!"  added  "Beechnuts,"  who  hailed  from 
Indiana.  "  If  there  was  ever  a  good  man  on  this  airth,  it 
was  old  John  Bloss  !" 

"  And  I'll  bet  four  ounces  that  he's  flying  around  Heaven 
this  very  minute !"  put  in  a  red-headed  miner  from  St. 
Louis. 

"  He'd  divide  his  last  cracker  with  a  man  who  was  in 
want,"  said  a  fourth,  wiping  the  corner  of  his  left  eye  and 
carrying  a  long  face. 

There  was  a  short  pause,  and  as  the  old  man  Turner 
removed  his  pipe  and  blew  the  smoke  away,  he  said: 

"  B'ys,  I  move  we  git  up  a  monument  for  him !" 

"  That  strikes  me !"  was  the  general  shout,  and  the  old 
man  continued : 

"  I'll  give  an  ounce  or  two,  the  rest  of  ye  give  as  much, 
and  we'll  do  the  fa'r  thing  by  the  old  angel.  He  desarves 
it.  I  feel  now  as  if  I  could  foot  it  clear  to  Boston  and  bring 
a  twenty-foot  monument  home  on  my  back !" 

The  hat  was  passed  around,  and  although  times  under 
the  hill  were  hard,  a  purse  of  about  sixty  dollars  was 
raised.  As  soon  as  the  body  had  been  buried  the  old  man 
Turner  pounded  his  head  and  brought  fourth  an  obituary 
notice.  He  called  the  camp  around  him  and  read  it  aloud, 
but  the  men  decided  that  it  wasn't  tender  enough,  and 
besides  the  old  man  had  tacked  on  half  the  song  of  "  Old 
Hundred  "  to'  finish  the  obituary.     The  task  was  allotted 


DESCEND  ON  THE  FUNDS.  241 

to  others,  and  finally  the  combined  efforts  of  the  entire 
camp  produced  the  following,  which  passed  criticism  and 
was  adopted : 

JOHN    BLOSS, 

He  Dyd  hear  on  the  29  of  Ma,  Aigd 

aboute  45  yr. 

His  deth  hez  kast  a  darkc  shadder  over  this  campp. 

We'll  never  For  git  him. 

this  stun  was  raised  by  his  cumraids. 

The  next  thing  in  order  was  to  procure  the  monument, 
and  the  evening  was  spent  in  devising  ways  and  means  of 
getting  a  marble  shaft  across  the  country  from  Chicago. 

That  night  "  Old  Chestnuts  "  was  shot  in  the  leg  while 
trying  to  steal  the  monument  fund,  and  when  morning 
came  it  was  discovered  that  Turner  had  run  aw^ay  wdth  the 
pile.  Three  men  pursued  him,  overhauled  and  robbed 
him,  and  then  struck  out  for  other  diggings,  and  "  Taller 
Candle  Valley  "  never  heard  anything  further  about  the 
John  Bloss  monument  fund,  except  now  and  then  as  a 
miner  rested  on  his  pick-handle  and  declared  that  he'd 
like  to  give  old  John  Bloss  one  good  kick— just  one. 


SHE  WAS  A  MOTHERLY  OLD  LADY. 


fHE  got  aboard  the  train  at  the  next  station,  and  she 
came  along  doAvn  the  car  until  she  saw  me,  and  down 
she  sat  in  the  unoccupied  half  of  my  seat.  I  was  rather 
glad  of  it,  for  she  was  a  motherly-looking  old  lady,  and 
she  didn't  have  a  car-load  of  baggage.  All  she  had  was  a 
hand-trunk,  three  bundles,  something  in  a  pillow-slip,  an 
umbrella,  something  tied  up  in  a  towel,  a  bag  of  some- 
thing else,  and  two  or  three  more  bundles. 

"  There's  them  doughnuts  for  Peter's  children,"  she  said 
as  she  stacked  up  the  bundles,  "  and  them's  chestnuts  for 
Sarah's  young  'uns ;  and  them's  herbs  for  the  colic — dried 
beef  for  lunch  on  the  way — carpet  rags  for  Melissa — dried 
apples  enough  to  go  around — some  o'  them  dried  plums 

for  sickness " 

And  finally  she  had  them  all  before  her.     She  counted 
up  on  her  fingers,  nodded  her  head,  and  sat  back  and 
looked  at  me  through  her  spectacles.    Finally  she  inquired: 
"  Haint  you  Mr.  Johnson  ?" 
I  replied  that  I  was  not. 
^^    X^  ^^^  "  -'-  thought  sure   you  was  him,  but 

now   I   see    you   haint,"  she   went  on, 
"  though  I'll  leave  it  to  forty  if  you  don't 
have   a  Johnson   look,  'cept   the   hair. 
Not  Johnson.         !N'one  of  the  Johnsous  have  red  hair." 
'No,  my  name  is  George  Washington,"  I  replied. 
242 


THE   TRUTH    COMES    OUT, 


"Washington  ? 


243 
Any  relation   to  them. 


"  Washington  ? 
AVashingtous  in  Medina  V 

"Not  as  I  know  of." 

"  Well,  seems  as  if  I  had  seen  you  afore,  but  I  can't 
place  you.     Going  fur  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Been  away  somewhere  ?" 

"Yes." 

*'  Folks  expect  you  home  ?" 

"  1^0 — haven't  any  home ;  I'm  an  orphan." 

"  Dear  me !  but  I  can  feel  for  you  if  that's  the  case ! 
A"\^io  brung  you  up  ?" 

"  1^0  one  in  particular.     At  the  tender  age  of  nine  years 
I  went  to  sea." 

"  To  see  who  ?" 

"  To  sea — to  sail  upon  the  ocean.    I  went  with  a  pirate." 

"Oh!  ha!" 

"  Yes,  I  became  a  pirate,  and  for  years  I  helped  to  burn, 

kill  and  plunder.  I 
became  a  monster, 
and  it  was  one  con- 
tinual feast  of  blood 
for  ten  long  years !" 
"  But  you've  re- 
formed, haven't  you," 
she  asked,  moving  off 
a  little  and  reaching 
out  for  her  bundles. 
"  Yes,  I  am  now  as 
innocent  as  a  child — 
as  you  are." 

"  Got  religion  at  camp-meeting,  I  s'pose  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  them  camp-meetings  is  powerful  things.     There 


244  SHE    CHANGES    OVER. 

was  Abe  Skinner — you  probably  didn't  know  him — be  got 
converted  at  camp-meeting,  and  they  say  he's  like  a  lamb 
now." 

She  looked  at  me  for  awhile  without  speaking,  and  then 
inquired : 

"  Did  you  kill  many  babies  when  you  were  in  the  pirate 
business  V 

"  No,  we  always  spared  innocent  children.  There  was 
one  pirate  who  didn't  do  anything  else  but  fill  their  nursing 
bottles  and  dose  'em  with  paregoric  when  they  had  wind 
colic." 

"  La !  now,  but  there  was  some  good  streaks  about  'em !" 
she  said.     "  And  what  did  you  do  with  the  old  women  ?" 

"  We  used  to  saw  'em  in  two  with  a  cross-cut  saw,  and 
use  the  pieces  for  hash  !" 

"  Grashus !  but  how  monsterous !"  she  whispered  as  she 
folded  her  arms  and  leaned  back. 

She  pondered  over  the  case  several  minutes,  and  then 
remarked  : 

"  But  you've  reformed  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  undergone  an  entire  change  of  heart  and 
appetite.  There  was  a  time  when  I  could  have  roasted 
and  eaten  you  for  dinner,  but  now  the  smell  of  baked  old 
woman  gives  me  the  heart-burn." 

She  drew  off  a  little  further  and  asked  ; 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  now  ?" 

"  My  present  business  is  buying  dead  bodies  and  ship- 
ping them  to  Australia,  where  they  are  used  as  fence-posts 
and  door-steps.  I  buy  a  body  whenever  I  can  secure  it  at 
a  fair  price,  but  when  I  can't  I  steal  it !" 

"  Excuse  me  !"  she  suddenly  remarked,  "  but  I  guess  I'll 
change  over  to  the  other  seat !" 

She  made  the  change,  but  during  the  entire  ride  she 
kept  an  eye  on  me,  and  once  I  saw  her  shiver  as  she 


she'll  ne'er  forget.  245 

thought  of  an  old  woman  being  sawed  up.  Her  friends 
were  at  the  depot  to  meet  her,  and  as  she  got  off  the  steps 
I  heard  her  say : 

"  Howdy,  Sarah — and  how's  Melindy — and  you'd  better 
look  out,  for  there's  a  body-snatcher  on  this  keer — and 
how's  George — and  he's  got  red  hair  and  used  to  eat 
women — and  how's  Sarah's  health — and  he's  been  a  roav- 
ing  pirate,  and " 

But  the  train  moved  on. 


WHAT  A  CHILD  SAW. 


""^^/TESTERDAY  morning  some  people  living  in  a  dark 
^  street  entered  a  house  to  find  father  and  mother 
beastly  drunk  on  the  floor,  and  their  child,  a  boy  four  years 
old,  dead  in  his  cradle.  The  parents  looked  like  beasts — 
the  child  wore  the  sweetest,  tenderest  smile  on  its  white 
face  that  any  of  them  ever  saw.  It  had  been  ailing  for 
days,  and  its  brief  life  had  been  full  of  bitter  woe,  but  yet 
the  women  cried  as  they  bent  over  the  old  cradle  and 
kissed  its  cold  cheeks  and  felt  its  icy  hands. 

Father  and  mother  lay  down  at  dark  the  evening  before, 
and  people  passing  by  heard  the  child  crying  and  wailing. 
It  was  too  weak  to  crawl  out  of  the  cradle,  and  its  voice 
was  not  strong  enough  to  break  the  chains  of  drunken 
stupor.  When  the  sun  went  down  and  the  evening  shad- 
ows danced  across  the  floor  and  seemed  to  grasp  at  him 
the  boy  grew  afraid  and  cried  out.  The  shadows  came 
faster,  and  as  they  raced  around  the  room  and  scowled 
darkly  at  the  lone  child  he  nestled  down  and  drew  the 
ragged  blanket  over  his  head  to  keep  the  revengeful  shad- 
ows from  seizing  him.  He  must  have  thought  his  parents 
dead,  and  how  still  the  house  seemed  to  him ! 

"  It's  dark,  mother — it's  dark !"  the  neighbors  heard  him 
wail ;  but  no  one  went  in  to  comfort  him  and  to  drive  the 
shadows  away.  The  night  grew  older — the  feet  of  pedes- 
trians ceased  to  echo,  and  the  heavy  breathing  of  the 
246 


"I  AM  TUY  mother!"  247 

drunkards  made  the  child  tremble  and  draw  the  cover  still 
closer.  His  little  bare  feet  were  curled  up,  and  he  shut 
his  eyes  tightly  to  keep  from  seeing  the  black  darkness. 

By  and  by  the  ragged  blanket  was  gently  pulled  away> 
and  the  child  opened  his  eyes  and  saw  a  great  light  in  the 
room. 

"  Is  it  morning  ?"  he  whispered,  but  the  drunkards  on 
the  floor  still  slept. 

Sweet,  tender  music  came  to  the  child's  ears,  and  the 
light  had  driven  every  shadow  away.  He  was  no  longer 
afraid.  The  aches  and  pains  he  had  suffered  for  days  past 
went  away  all  at  once. 

"  Mother !  mother !  hear  the  music  !"  he  cried,  and  from 
out  of  the  soft,  white  light,  came  an  angel. 

"  I  am  thy  mother !"  she  softly  said. 

He  was  not  afraid.  He  had  never  seen  her  before,  but 
she  looked  so  good  and  beautiful  that  he  held  up  his  wasted 
hands  and  said : 

"  I  will  go  with  you — I  will  be  your  child  I" 

The  music  grew  yet  softer,  and  the  melody  was  so  sad  and 
tender,  and  yet  so  full  of  love  and  rejoicing,  that  the  drunk- 
ards on  the  floor  moved  a  little  and  muttered  broken  words. 

Other  angels  came,  and  the  light  fell  upon  the  boy's  face 
in  a  blazing  shower,  turning  his  curls  to  threads  of  gold. 
He  held  up  his  arms  and  laughed  for  joy. 

"  Heaven  wants  you  !"  the  angel  whispered.  "  Earth 
has  no  more  sorrow — no  further  misery.     Come  !" 

And  he  floated  away  with  them,  leaving  the  sleepers 
lying  as  if  dead.  The  golden  light  faded  out,  the  music 
died  away,  and  the  old  house  was  again  filled  with  the 
grim,  threatening  shadows,  which  sat  around  the  sleepers 
and  touched  their  bloated  faces  with  gaunt  skeleton 
fingers,  and  laughed  horribly  when  the  drunkards  groaned 
in  uneasy  slumber. 


248  NO    ONE   COULD   TELL. 

When  people  came  in  the  shadows  went  out.  The 
sleepers  still  slept  their  sodden  sleep,  and  no  one  minded 
them.  Men  and  women  bent  low  over  the  dead  child, 
smoothed  back  his  curls  and  whispered : 

"  Poor  dead  boy !" 

Who  could  know  that  he  had  seen  the  angels,  and  that 
they  had  borne  him  to  Heaven's  gate  ? 


OLD   FRISKET. 


fN  central  Michigan,  many  years  ago,  an  old  bachelor 
who  may  be  spoken  of  here  as  Frisket,  because  he 
has  long  been  dead,  published  a  small  paper  called 
the  Herald.  There  was  only  a  small  amount  of  job-work, 
Frisket  didn't  write  to  exceed  a  column  per  week,  and  the 
office  force  consisted  of  himself  and  a  white-headed  boy 
about  twelve  years  old,  who  swept  out,  "  rolled  "  the  forms, 

and  made  himself 
so  generally  useful 
that  he  received 
seventy-five  cents 
per  week  for  his 
services. 

Frisket  was  good- 
natured,  lazy,  liked 
whisky,  and  he  ful- 
ly realized  the  fact 
that  the  Herald  had 
a  very  slim  chance 
of  winning  a  nation- 
al reputation  under 
his  editorial  man- 
office  Force.  agcmcnt.     It  had  a 

circulation  of  two  hundred  or  such  a  figure,  subscribers 
paid    in   wood,   potatoes,    sheep-pelts,   store    orders,   and 
249 


250  A    PUT    UP    JOB, 

promises,  and  Frisket  was  as  contented  as  the  editor  of 
the  London  Times. 

There  were  half  a  dozen  young  "jours"  working  in  a  town 
a  dozen  miles  away,  and  as  they  all  knew  Frisket,  and  knew 
that  he  would  get  drunk  whenever  opportunity  offered,  they 
put  up  a  job  on  him.  His  paper  was  issued  Mondays,  and 
he  worked  off  the  first  side,  or  the  first  and  fourth  pages, 
Saturday.     Sunday  morning  the  ' ' j  ours  "  chartered  a  wagon 


and  rode  over  to  Frisket's  town.  He 
was  in  the  ofiice,  getting  up  a  few 
local  items,  and  he  sat  down  and  made 
them  feel  at  home.  It  wasn't  forty  minutes  before  he  was  so 
drunk  that  they  laid  him  down  in  one  corner  of  the  office 
with  the  knowledge  that  he  would  sleep  until  the  next  day. 
Then,  lowering  the  curtains  and  locking  the  door,  they 
took  off  their  coats  and  went  to  work  getting  up  his  local. 
The  following  are  samples  of  the  local  news  they  rushed  up : 
"  Beware  of  Him  !— The  President  of  the  village  is  a 
thief,  liar,  rascal  and  dead-beat  generally.  Respectable 
men  should  beware  of  associating  with  him  !'* 


STARTLING    LOCAL    NEWS.  251 

"In'ew  Sign. — We  notice  that  Miss  Foster,  the  dress- 
maker on  Main  street,  has  a  new  ;i;4n.  She'd  better  get  a 
new  set  of  teeth,  stop  winking  oi  J  (Van  Green,  the  hard- 
ware man,  and  pay  her  cigar  bills !' 

"A  Fraud. — Pettigrew  Brown,  the  proprietor  of  the 
Red  Front  dry  goods  store,  would  as  soon  cheat  a  blind 
man  as  to  mnk.  He  came  to  this  town  fresh  from  State 
Prison,  and  is  a  contacted  grave-robber  and  hog-stealer !" 

"  Avoid  Him  ! — Harrison,  the  photographer,  went  home 
drunk  the  other  night,  threw  his  child  on  the  red-hot  stove, 
smashed  up  the  furniture,  turned  his  wife  out  doors,  and 
would  now  be  in  jail  but  for  the  corruption  of  constable 
Bell  and  Justice  Swan.  These  officials  ought  to  be 
impeached  at  once.  We  have  it  on  good  authority  that 
they  are  the  scoundrels  who  have  been  stealing  wool  from 
the  fanners  in  this  county." 

In  the  course  of  the  forenoon  they  set  up  twenty-one  such 
items,  raking  almost  every  prominent  man  in  the  village 
and  county.  There  was  only  enough  tyi>Q  left  for  one 
more  article,  and  they  used  it  to  get  off  the  following 
wind-up : 

"  This  Town. — This  town  is  situated  on  Carrion  Creek, 
and  its  inhabitants  may  be  classed  under  the  following 
heads,  viz  :  Catfish,  gamblers,  thieves,  incendiaries,  fools, 
lunatics,  suckers,  whales,  sharks,  dead-beats  and  jackasses. 
The  principal  business  of  the  said  inhabitants  is  whittling 
shingles,  chewing  gum  and  hunting  coons.  There  isn't  an 
honest  man  or  a  good-looking  female  in  the  town.  It  is 
the  home  of  the  seven-year  itch  and  the  birth-place  of 
Benedict  Arnold.  No  honest  man  can  live  here  fifteen 
minutes,  and  a  spotted  dog  couldn't  pick  up  a  full  meal 
here  in  three  weeks.  The  only  decent  man  in  the  village 
is  Mr.  Frisket,  the  genial  and  whole-souled  editor  of  this 


252  WAS    CALLED    TO    GO. 

paper,  who  is  going  to  get  out  of  town  as  soon  as  he  can 
raise  money." 

They  locked  up  the  forms,  took  turns  at  working  the 
press,  and  by  two  o'clock  had  the  edition  off,  mailed  and 
ready  to  go  to  the  post-office.  Then  they  roused  the  old 
man,  gave  him  another  drink,  and  were  getting  ready  to 
go  when  the  tow-headed  apprentice  came  around.  He  was 
much  surprised,  but  one  of  the  "jours"  gave  him  half  a 
dollar,  told  him  that  the  old  man  must  be  allowed  to  sleep, 
and  that  the  papers  should  go  to  the  post-office  early  next 
morning,  and  the  delighted  boy  skipped  away  as  happy  as 
an  angel. 

Just  how  Frisket  got  out  of  it  they  never  knew.  He  was 
still  asleep  next  day  when  an  indignant  crowd  broke  in 
the  door  and  rushed  him  out  where  all  could  have  a  chance 
to  kick  him.  He  got  away  by  leaping  off  a  bank  and 
swimming  a  creek,  while  the  "  associate  editor  "  hid  in  the 
woods  and  heard  the  office  being  gutted.  About  eleven 
o'clock  that  night  Frisket  was  met  on  the  highway,  seven 
or  eight  miles  from  his  town.  He  was  barefooted  and  bare- 
headed, had  his  coat  on  his  arm,  was  eating  a  raw  turnip 
for  lunch,  and  when  saluted  he  replied  : 

"  My  name  isn't  Frisket — it's  Jones,  and  I'm  looking 
land !     How  far  is  it  to  Baltimore  ?" 


"R-AGS!"  "R-AGSr 


fUST  as  the  rajs  of  the  rising  sun  gilded  the  rosy 
morn,  and  the  lark  brushed  the  dew  from  his  brown 
feathers  and  trilled  a  joyous  lay,  the  voice  rose  from  the 
walk  and  penetrated  the  ears  of  every  sleeper  for  a  block 
around.  It  was  not  a  voice  crying  "  Excelsior !"  or  a  voice 
raised  in  adulation  of  the  beauties  of  a  joyous  morning. 
It  was  a  plaintive  voice,  and  there  was  a  quaver  to  it  as  it 
called  out : 

"R-ags!" 

When  the  great  bell  struck  the  hour  of  noon,  and  the 
busy  streets  were  deserted  by  all  save  a  slowly  meandering 
policeman  or  two,  and  an  occasional  lad  hurrying  along 
wdth  a  dinner-pail  in  his  hand,  a  plaintive  voice  sounded 
along  the  streets  and  echoed  and  reverberated  in  the  stair- 
ways. It  was  not  the  voice  of  a  good  man  admonishing 
people  to  turn  from  the  error  of  their  ways.  It  was 
not  the  chant  of  the  auctioneer,  giving  "  third  and  last 
call,"  nor  was  it  the  monotonous,  nmsical  slang  of  the  man 
who  sells  a  set  of  gold  jewelry  for  the  paltry  sum  of  twenty- 
five  cents.     It  was  a  voice  crying : 

"R-ags!" 

"When  the  golden  sun  dipped  behind  the  horizon,  and 
the  evening  shadows  chased  each  other  across  his  face 
and  wavered  and  quivered  above  Time's  grave,  there  came 
253 


254 


MORE    RAGS. 


rising  on  the  quiet  evening  air  a  long-drawn  wail.  It 
was  not  the  cry  of  a  child  in  pain.  It  was  not  the  sad  sob 
of  a  loving  wife  as  she  bent  over  the  cold  and  lifeless  form 
of  a  kind  husband.  It  rose  with  the  shadows,  sounding 
through  halls,  and  crept  into  chambers.  It  was  that  same 
cry — that  same 


"THE  MOTHER'S  FRIEND. 


fOME  five  or  six  years  ago  Mr.  Gregory,  of  the  Roch- 
ester Chronicle,  invented  what  he  called  "  Gregory's 
Eureka  Spanker,"  being  an  invention  calculated  to  lessen 
the  labor  of  fathers  and  mothers  in  enforcing  family  dis- 
cipline. The  principle  was  correct,  but  the  machines  were 
all  failures,  as  they  could  not  be  constructed  with  power 
enough  to  answer  the  purpose  designed.  The  children 
were  lifted  up,  laid  face  down  on  a  small  platform,  and  the 
mother  worked  the  spanking  apparatus  as  one  turns  a 
cofFee-mill.  A  series  of  fans  were  arranged  to  strike  the 
child  thirty  times  per  minute,  but  owing  to  the  lack  of 
power  the  child  was  led  to  believe  that  some  one  was 
tickling  him,  and  would  laugh  himself  almost  to  death. 
Another  bad  feature  of  the  machine  was  the  fact  that  it 
took  at  least  ten  minutes  to  spank  a  child.  Thus,  in  a 
family  where  there  were  seven  or  eight  children,  an  hour 
and  a  half  was  consumed  in  getting  around,  and  by  the 
time  the  last  child  had  been  spanked  the  first  had  entirely 
forgotten  that  anything  unusual  had  occurred  that  day. 

I  am  happy  to  inform  mothers  that  I  have  brought  out 
a  new  machine,  founded  on  more  correct  principles,  scien- 
tifically constructed,  and  warranted  to  do  three  times  as 
much  as  I  claim  for  it    It  is  called  "  The  Mother's  Friend," 
255 


256 


GAZE   ON    THIS. 


and  tlie  fact  that  It  fills  a  want  long  felt  is  shown  by  every 
mail.  The  first  machine  was  put  on  trial  only  three  months 
ago,  and  now  I  have  orders  from  nearly  every  State  in  the 
Union,  and  employ  two  saw-mills  and  ninety-seven  skilled 
mechanics  in  its  manufacture. 


"The  Mother's  Friend.' 


The  following  are  selected  at  random  from  among  several 
millions  of  testimonials : 


-'} 


"  Office  of  the  '  Commercial, 

CrNcnmATi,  O.,  June  20, 

M.  Quad — Sir — ^I  was  present  last  evening  at  a  trial  of 

your  patent  '  Friend,'  and  it  does  me  good  to  inform  you 

that  it  proved  itself  a  great  success.     Thirty-five  children 

were  spanked  in  twenty-eight  minutes  by  one  woman, 


AND   THEN    ORDER    ONE.  257 

without  any  efibrt,  and  each  one  was  far  better  spanked 
than  the  stoutest  mother  coukl  have  done  it  with  a  boot- 
jack.    The  Commerckd  will  stand  by  you  in  this  section. 
Very  truly, 

M.  HALSTEAD." 

And  the  follo-vving  is  from  N"ew  York : 

"  M.  Quad — Dear  Sir — Mrs.  Bryant  and  myself  liave  had 
tlie  pleasure  of  attending  a  spanking  soiree,  given  for  the 
purpose  of  testing  your  patent  apparatus.  It  worked  so 
successfully  that  we  are  going  to  adopt  a  child  and  pur- 
chase a  Spanker.  I  have  seen  thousands  of  inventions,  but 
I  never  saw  anything  which  could  afford  a  family  the  fun 

which  the  '  Friend '  can. 

mi.  CULLEiq-  BRYANT." 

And  the  following  is  from  "Washington  : 

"M.  Quad — Your  note  of  the  15th  inst.,  asking  me  what 
I  thought  of  your  new  invention,  was  duly  received.  In 
answer,  let  me  say  that  I  am  delighted.  It  saves  time, 
does  its  work  well,  runs  easily,  is  substantially  constructed, 
and  if  I  had  a  family  of  children  I'd  go  bare-footed  all 
winter  but  what  I'd  have  a  Spanker.  Can  I  secure  the 
agency  for  the  District  of  Columbia  ?  What  commission 
do  you  allow  ?  I  think  I  can  sell  five  hundred  in  this  city 
alone.  Ever  yours, 

GIDEON  WELLES." 

And  this  is  from  the  ex-editor  of  the  Lapeer  (Michigan) 
Democrat  : 

"M.  Quad — Sir — The  Spanker  was  received  last  evening 
and  immediately  put  to  work,  and  I  must  say  that  I  am 
astonished  and  gratified  at  its  manner  of  working.  Our 
children  have  been  angels  ever  since  passing  through  the 
machine.  Formerly,  my  wife  had  to  use  up  an  hour's 
Q 


258  THE    USUAL   DISCOUNT. 

time  and  half  a  bunch  of  shingles  every  day  to  spank  our 

darlings,  and  then  they  weren't  half  attended  to.     'Now, 

by  the  aid  of  your  Spanker,  she  can  do  the  work  in  live 

minutes.     Draw  on  me  for  $40. 

Respectfully, 

L.  D.  SALE." 

Other  testimonials  can  be  seen  at  my  office,  where  one 
of  the  Spankers  is  also  on  exhibition.  The  regular  dis- 
count will  be  allowed  editors  and  clergymen. 


GETTING  A  PHOTOGRAPH. 


|E  was  a  very  pleasant  spoken  man — that 
photographer.  He  said  it  was  a  nice 
day,  and  that  we  needed  a  little  rain, 
and  that  the  Arkansas  difficulty  was  a 
bad  thing,  and  that  photographs  were 
two  dollars  per  dozen — no  orders  booked 
without  the  cash  in  advance.  He  wanted 
to  know  if  I  wanted  full-length,  half- 
length,  bust,  face,  or  what.  I  told 
him  ''orwiiat,"  and  he  yanked  his  camera  around,  flung 
the  big  screens  recklessly  about,  poked  the  sky-light  cur- 
tains this  way  and  that  ^^dth  a  long  stick,  and  then  he 
ordered  mc  to  sit  down. 

"There — that  way!"  he  said  as  he  jerked  my  body  to 
the  left  and  nearly  broke  my  spine. 

I  went  that  way,  and  he  stepped  back,  closed  the  left  eye 
and  squinted  at  me. 

"  A  trifle  more  !"  he  said,  giving  me  another  jerk. 
Then  he  stepped  back  and  closed  the   right  eye   and 
squinted  again. 

"  Shoulders  up  !"  he  said  as  he  gave  them  a  twist  which 
made  the  blades  crack. 

Then  he  went  to  the  left  and  squinted  and  cried  "ha!" 
259 


260  WHO  wouldn't  have  bobbed? 

and  went  to  the  right  and  squinted  and  shouted  "  um !"  and 
he  came  back,  seized  my  head  and  jerked  it  up  until  I  saw 
stars. 

"  That's  better !"  he  said,  as  he  walked  back  to  the  camera. 

But  it  wasn't.  He  came  back  and  told  me  to  twist  the 
right  shoulder  around,  hump  up  my  back,  swell  out  my 
chest  and  look  straight  at  a  butterfly  pinned  to  a  corn-starch 
box,  and  be  as  pleasant  as  I  could. 

"  Capital !"  he  cried,  as  he  took  a  squint  through  the 
camera,  "  only " 

And  he  rushed  back,  jerked  my  head  a  little  higher, 
pulled  my  ears  back,  brushed  up  my  hair,  and  said  I'd 
better  try  to  smile  and  look  natural. 

"  How  the  dev "  I  began,  but  he  waved  his  hand, 

and  said  I  must  preserve  my  placid  demeanor. 

"  I^ow  sit  perfectly  still  and  don't  move  a  hair,"  he 
whispered,  as  he  threw  a  black  cloth  over  the  brass-bound 
end  of  the  camera,  and  made  a  sudden  dive  into  his  little 
dark  den.  As  he  rattled  the  glass  and  dashed  the  acids 
about,  I  felt  a  big  pain  in  my  spine,  a  small  pain  in  my 
chest,  another  in  my  neck,  another  in  my  ribs,  but  I  said 
I'd  die  first,  and  I  kept  my  gaze  on  that  butterfly. 

"  Ready  now !"  he  cried,  as  he  jumped  out  and  put  in 
the  glass.  My  head  began  to  bob,  and  the  butterfly  seemed 
to  grow  as  large  as  a  horse,  and  he  whispered : 

"  Look  out — keep  perfectly  still !" 

I  braced  for  a  big  eflfort,  and  he  jerked  down  the  cloth. 
I  felt  as  if  the  fate  of  a  nation  rested  on  my  shoulders,  and 
I  stuck  to  it.  He  turned  away,  and  I  heard  him  talking 
softly  to  himself.  After  about  an  hour  and  a  half  he  put 
np  the  rag,  jerked  out  the  glass  and  ran  into  the  den.  He 
was  out  in  a  moment,  and  as  he  held  the  negative  up  to 
the  sun,  he  said  : 

"  Ah  !  you  bobbed  your  head — have  to  try  it  again  !" 


THE   FIGURES. 


IHEEE,  my  dear  wife,  there  is  the  set  of  jewelry 
which  you  have  so  long  waited  for,"  said  a 
Detroiter  as  he  laid  a  package  before  his  wife  one  evening. 

"  Oh  !  you  dear  old  darling,  how  much  did  it  cost!"  she 
inquired  as  she  tore  oiF  the  paper. 

"  Only  |50,"  he  replied,  carelessly. 

"And  what's  this  mark,  '$8.50,'  on  the  card  for?"  she 
asked  as  she  held  it  up  and  looked  at  him  with  suspicion 
in  her  eyes. 

"  That — that  mark — why,  that  means  that  they  paid  only 
$8.50  to  have  the  jewelry  made  !"  he  replied.  "  Just  think, 
darling,  of  their  grinding  a  poor,  hard-working  artisan 
down  to  $8.50 !" 

She  was  satisfied  with  the  explanation,  and  he  whispered 
to  himself: 

"  What  a  mule  I  was  not  to  change  that  $8,50  to  $50." 
261 


SOME  NEW  VIEWS  IN  THE  YOSEMITE. 


T  seemed  to  me  as  I  stood  in  the  mountain-locked  val- 
TCl   ley  and  gazed  upwards  that  N'ature  had  reserved  her 
grandest  eftbrts  for  the  Yosemite.     A  feeling  of  awe 
crept  over  me,  and  I  could  not  shake  it  off.    Not  until  that 

hour  had  I  ever 
really  apprecia- 
ted the  sublime 
and  the  grand  in 
Nature. 

Moving    down 
I  the  valley  I  found 
"Mystery  Rock." 
High  up  on  the 
side  of  the  moun- 
tain is  a  flat  rock,  upon  whose 
surface   rests   several   relics   of  the 
primeval  ages,  and  aw^e  and  aston- 
ishment fills  the  mind  of  the  tourist 
as  he  puts  the  telescope  to  his  left 
eye  and  takes  a  good  long  look.     A 
Professor  from   the  East,  who  was 
-with  the  party,  said  that  the  relics 
were  at  least  "ten  thousand  years  old, 
"Mystery  Rock."         and  that  if  they  could  be  secured  the 
whole  history  of  the  first  settlers  in  North  America  could 
be  read  as  from  a  book. 

262 


THE    GLADE   AND    THE    LAKE. 


263 


Continuing  on  down  the  Valley  we  came  upon  "  Lovers' 
Glade,"  which  is  only  a  short  distance  to  the  right  of  the 
regular  trail.  It  is  one  of  the  most  romantic  spots  in  the 
whole  Valley,  and  I  sat  down  on  a  log  and  rested  and. 

gazed  and  sighed  for  a- 
full  hour.  The  legend 
goes  that  two  lovers 
were  lost  in  the  mount- 
ains, and  after  wander- 
ing around  for  many 
months  without  being 
able  to  find  their  way 
out,  they  at  last  reached 
this  glade,  where  they 
both  died.  His  skeleton 
is  seen  in  the  foreground, 
and  her  skeleton  is  seen 
hanging  to  a  limb.  I 
felt  a  great  deal  sadder  after  leaving  the  glade. 

Further  down  the  Valley  we  came  upon  "  Lake  Vesper," 
a  beautiful  sheet  of  water  imprisoned  between  the  hills. 
I  have  never  yet  seen  a  painting  or  photograph  of  it,  and 
have  often  wondered  how  so  many  artists  overlooked  it. 
On  a  little  island  in  the  center  of  the  lake,  is  another  relic 


'Lovers'  Glade.' 


.,f^r^A   --. 


of  the  primeval  ages.  I  at  first 
thought  it  was  a  barrel — a  bar- 
rel of  gin,  or  something,  left 
there  for  the  use  of  weary  trav- 
elers, but  the  Professor  indig- 
nantly repudiated  the  idea.  He 
said  it  was  an  heirloom  of  the 
lost  Aztec  race,  and  took  the  spy-glass  away  from  me.  I 
lingered  behind  and  sat  down  and  looked  and  pondered, 
and  such  waves  of  awe  rolled  over  me  that  one  of  the  men, 


264 


MEDITATION,   AND    SO    FORTH. 


wlio  wanted  to  borrow  my  jack-knife,  came  back  and  asked 
me  three  times  before  I  knew  of  Ms  presence.  I  think 
"  Lake  Vesper  "  one  of  the  loveliest  visions  of  the  Valley, 
but  I'd  give  a  good  deal  to  know  whether  there  is  anything 
good  to  drink  in  that  barrel. 

Soon  after  dinner  we  came  upon  "  Hiawatha  Falls." 
Professor  was  so  overcome  with  the  awe  and  grandeur  that 
he  sat  down  on  a  rock  and  cried,  and  all  of  us  were  a  great 
deal  more  or  less  affected.  The  sight  was  simply  grand. 
The  water  starts  from  a  cliff  several  hundred  feet  high, 
plashes  from  rock  to  rock  and  plane  to 
plane  with  a  musical  roar,  and  finally 
reaches  the  Valley  and  glides  through  the 
grass  like  a  silver  serpent.  An  Indian 
guide  informed  me  that  the  view  was  not 
so  inspiring  from  above.  He  had  once 
&!  ascended  to  the  source  of  the  Falls,  and 
as  near  as  I  could  make  out  from  his 
broken  words  and  wild  gestures,  the  view 
was  "  heap  cuss  no  good." 

The  guide  turned  aside  about  an  hour 
before  sunset  to  point  out  a  sight  called 
"Meditation."  In  a  lovely  little  glade, 
overshadowed  by  the  sublime  mountains 
which  have  been  centuries  building,  we 
stood  in  a  half-circle,  seven  of  us,  with 
uncovered  heads,  and  gazed  at  the  solemn 
and  awe-inspiring  picture.  The  Professor 
seemed  more  affected  than  any  one  else. 
He  stood  where  the  red  sunlight  fell  upon 
his  classic  face  as  it  flashed  down  through  the  tree  tops, 
and  he  held  his  hat  in  his  hands,  closed  his  eyes,  and  for 
three  or  four  minutes  stood  there  like  a  statue,  allowing 
his  mind  to  go  back  a  thousand  years — to  the  time  when 


'Meditation.' 


A   ROW   AMONG   THE    ANGELS.  ZbD 

the  Yosemite  hills  and  valleys  echoed  the  shouts  of  the 
lost  races.  A  feeling  of  awe  also  crept  over  the  rest  of  us, 
and  it  was  full  live  minutes  before  any  one  broke  the 
silence.     Then  the  Professor  put  on  his  hat  and  whispered : 

"When  we  behold  such  wonders  of  ITature  it  makes 
man  realize  more  forcibly  what  a  small  particle  of  dust  he 
is  himself — some  one  give  me  a  chew  of  fine-cut." 

We  camped  that  night  in  what  is  called  "  The  Valley  of 
the  Angels."  One  fails  to  secure  the  full  grandeur  of  the 
spot  by  daylight,  but  at  night,  when  the  light  of  the  camp- 
fire  flashes  out  and  half  illuminates  the  great  black  rocks 
and  the  silent  dells,  any  man  who  knows  enough  to  string 
dried  apples  cannot  help  but  feel  his  whole  frame  tremble 
with  the  awe  and  mystery  which  a  million  years  of  time 
has  wrapt  around  this  mysterious  Yalley. 

We  should  have  felt  more  of  the  sublime  if  the  party  from 
Chicago  hadn't  called  the  party  fi-om  Cincinnati  a  liar,  and 
thereby  got  up  a  fight. 


A  PHILOSOPHER, 


f  THINK  lie  was  a  philosopher.  He  wore  seedy  clothes ; 
he  had  a  hungry  look ;  his  hat  was  going  to  decay — 
everything  went  to  show  that  he  was  a  philosopher. 

He  trudged  down  the  aisle  until  he  was  near  the  end  of 
the  car,  and  then  he  dropped  into  a  seat  beside  a  stranger 
who  was  making  a  lunch  on  crackers  and  bologna — one  of 
those  small  hard  bolognas  which  assume  a  half-circular 
shape  as  they  grow  older. 

I  was  in  the  seat  next  behind,  and  I  wondered  if  there 
could  be  anything  congenial  between  those  two  men. 

The  pliilosoj^her  removed  his  hat  and  gently  scratched 
his  gray  locks,  and  pretty  soon  the  other  man  finished  his 
meal,  brushed  the  crumbs  away,  heaved  a  deep  sigh  and 
settled  back  as  if  to  sleep.  Then  the  philosopher  suddenly 
turned  and  remarked : 

"  This  would  be  a  sunshiu}-  day  if  the  sun  shone." 

The  other  did  not  answer  yes  or  no,  but  drew  his  leg  up 
and  rubbed  his  ankle,  and  looked  suspiciously  at  the  phil- 
osopher. There  was  a  silence  for  a  moment  or  two,  and 
then  the  old  man  placed  his  hand  on  the  other's  shoulder 
and  whispered : 

"  My  friend,  do  you  know  that  it  would  always  be  day- 
light if  it  wasn't  for  darkness  ?" 

"  I  pelieve  dat  is  zo,  but  I  never  remembered  of  it 
pefore,"  replied  the  other,  glancing  out  of  the  window  and 
then  back  at  the  old  man. 

266 


THE  PHILOSOPHER. 


PUILOSOPUY   IS    GENIUS.  267 

"  And  do  you  know,"  continued  the  pliilosopher,  "  that 
if  death  did  not  overtake  us,  we  should  live  right  along 
for  thousands  of  years  ?" 

"  Ish  dat  bossible !"  exclaimed  the  other,  turning  side- 
ways on  the  seat  to  get  a  better  view  of  his  companion, 
and  exhibiting  sudden  interest. 

The  philosopher  smoothed  out  the  dents  in  his  hat  and 
continued : 

"  If  we  didn't  sleep  we  should  always  remain  awake !" 

"  Py  golly,  ish  dat  zo!"  exclaimed  the  other,  a  faint 
smile  crossing  his  face. 

"  Yes,  that  is  true ;  but  I  presume  you  have  never  pon- 
dered on  these  things,  have  you  ?" 

"  Yhell,  not  a  crate  deal.  I  keeps  a  zaloon  by  Doledo, 
und  I  haf  no  dime  to  bonder.  I  bonders  some  on  dat 
liquor  law." 

The  philosopher  surveyed  one  of  his  rusty  old  boots,  full 
of  wrinkles  and  warped  out  of  shape,  for  two  or  three 
minutes,  and  then  laid  his  hand  on  the  other's  knee,  and 
asked : 

"I  presume  you  have  never  stopped  to  think  why  a 
creek  or  river  runs  down  stream  instead  of  up  ?" 

"  I  haf  never  did,"  replied  the  man,  in  a  voice  betraying 
self-reproach  for  his  great  negligence. 

The  philosopher  closed  his  eyes  like  one  weary  of  life, 
and  the  other  wore  an  expression  of  sorrow  and  contrition 
as  he  realized  how  sadly  he  had  neglected  his  duties. 

"  Here  you  are  riding  on  the  cars,"  continued  the  old 
man,  suddenly  rousing,  "  and  yet  I  hardly  think  you  can 
tell  me  what  keeps  this  car  on  the  track." 

"  Der  wheels,"  replied  the  other. 

"  But  why  don't  this  car  rise  up  and  travel  in  the  air  ?" 
queried  the  philosopher. 

"  Pecause  dere  ish  no  drack  up  dere !" 


268  PHILOSOPHY    IS    POWER. 

"  All — um !"  sighed  the  old  man,  as  he  leaned  back;  "if 
I  should  tell  you  that  it  would  always  be  summer  if  it 
wasn't  for  fall,  spring  and  winter,  what  would  you  say  ?" 

"  Can  dat  be  zo  !"  exclaimed  the  other,  the  smile  of  admi- 
ration coming  back  to  his  face. 

"  There  it  is  again,"  said  the  philosopher,  extending  his 
hand ;  "  people  trudge  along  through  the  world,  and  can- 
not tell  why  they  are  here  or  what  paths  they  travel,  is'ow, 
sir,  has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that  you  and  I  would  never 
want  to  eat  if  we  didn't  feel  hungry  ?" 

"iTo — by  shiminy  no!"  exclaimed  the  other;  "I  haf 
never  remembered  of  dose  dings  ever  again  in  my  life  !" 

A  look  of  contempt  came  to  the  old  man's  face,  and  he 
shrank  away  as  if  he  could  not  degrade  himself  by  longer 
association.  There  was  something  in  the  other's  look,  how- 
ever, which  wrought  a  sudden  change  in  his  mind,  and 
after  a  pause  he  continued  : 

"  You  should  think  of  these  things.  You  look  like  an 
intelligent  man  ;  but  if  I  should  tell  you  that  the  sun  could 
never  set  if  it  did  not  rise,  what  would  you  say  ?" 

"  "\Tiell,  vhell,  gan  it  be  bossible  ?"  gasped  the  other. 

The  philosopher  closed  his  eyes  again  and  gently  rubbed 
his  knee,  though  there  was  imminent  danger  that  he  would 
rub  away  the  thin  fabric  and  leave  the  joint  exposed  to  the 
public  gaze. 

One  could  see  that  the  other  was  blaming  himself  for  his 
criminal  negligence,  and  I  was  feeling  sorry  for  him  when 
the  philosopher  shook  himself  and  went  on  : 

"  You  have  eyes,  ears  and  brains,  and  nature  has  given 
you  the  power  to  think  and  analyze,  but  I  have  every  rea- 
son to  believe  that  you  cannot  tell  me  why  it  does  not  keep 
right  on  raining  for  ten  years  when  it  once  commences." 

"  Pecause  it  sthops,"  was  the  blunt  reply. 


BE    A    PHILUSOPHKR.  269 

He  began  to  smile,  but  a  look  from  the  old  man  cbecked 
him — a  look  which  pictured  contempt,  pity  and  deep 
sorrow. 

"I  have  got  to  leave  you  now,"  whispered  the  philoso- 
pher, as  the  engine  whistled  for  a  station,  "  and  I  am 
grieved.  You  are  a  beast  of  the  field,  groping  in  dark- 
ness, and  I  shudder  when  I  realize  that  you  may  live  your 
allotted  time  and  still  be  ignorant  of  the  power  which 
gives  you  life.  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  if  we  didn't 
have  any  lakes,  rivers  or  oceans,  we  wouldn't  have  any 
ships  ?" 

The  other  opened  his  eyes  and  mouth  in  dumb  amaze- 
ment, and  could  not  utter  a  word  as  he  watched  the 
philosopher  out  of  the  door.  When  the  train  started  up 
again  he  settled  back  in  the  seat  and  gasped : 

"  Yhell !  vhell !  I  shall  never  dinks  of  dose  dings  zo 
much  pefore  as  after  now !" 


TRAINING  UP  A  BOY. 


jTf|--T  AYE  you  a  boy  from  five  to  eight  years  old  ?  If  so 
qW^  it  is  a  matter  of  the  greatest  importance  that  you 
train  him  up  right.  Teach  him  from  the  start  that  he  can't 
run  across  the  floor,  whoop,  chase  around  the  back  yard 
or  use  up  a  few  nails  and  boards  to  make  carts  or  boats. 
If  you  let  him  chase  around  he'll  wear  out  shoes  and 
clothes,  and  nails  and  boards  cost  money. 

Train  him  to  control  his  appetite.  Give  him  the  small- 
est piece  of  pie ;  the  bone  end  of  the  steak ;  the  small 
potato,  and  keep  the  butter-dish  out  of  his  reach.  By 
teaching  him  to  curb  his  appetite  you  can  keep  him  in 
good  humor.  Boys  are  always  good  humored  when  hun- 
ger gnaws  at  their  stomachs.  If  he  happens  to  break  a 
dish,  thrash  him  for  it ;  that  will  mend  the  dish  and  teach 
him  a  lesson  at  the  same  time. 

If  you  happen  to  notice  that  your  boy's  shoes  are  wear- 
ing out,  take  down  the  rod  and  give  him  a  peeling.  Those 
shoes  were  purchased  only  ten  months  ago,  and  though 
you  have  worn  out  two  pairs  of  boots  during  that  time  the 
boy  has  no  business  to  be  so  hard  on  shoes.  By  giving 
him  a  sound  thrashing  you  will  prevent  the  shoes  from 
wearing  out. 

When  you  want  your  boy  to  go  of  an  errand  you  should 
state  it,  and  add : 

270 


SOME   FURTHER   ADVICE.  271 

"  Now  go  as  quick  as  you  can,  and  if  you  arc  gone  over 
five  minutes  I'll  cut  the  hide  o&  of  your  back !" 

He  will  recognize  the  necessity  of  haste,  and  he  will 
hurry  up.  You  could  not  do  the  errand  yourself  inside 
of  fifteen  minutes,  but  he  is  not  to  know  that.  If  you 
want  him  to  pile  wood,  the  way  to  address  him  is  thusly : 

"  Now,  see  here,  Henry,  I  want  every  stick  of  that  wood 
piled  up  before  noon.  K  I  come  home  and  find  you 
haven't  done  it  I'll  lick  you  till  you  can't  stand  up !" 

It  is  more  than  a  boy  of  his  size  ought  to  do  in  a  whole 
day,  but  you  are  not  to  blame  that  he  is  not  thirteen  years 
old  instead  of  eight. 

If  you  hear  that  any  one  in  the  neighborhood  has  broken 
a  window,  stolen  fruit  or  unhinged  a  gate,  be  sure  that  it 
is  your  boy.  K  he  denies  it,  take  down  the  rod  and  tell 
him  that  you  will  thrash  him  to  death  if  he  doesn't  "  own 
up,"  but  that  you  \^^ll  spare  him  if  he  does.  He  will  own 
up  to  a  lie  to  get  rid  of  the  thrashing,  and  then  you  can 
talk  to  him  about  the  fate  of  liars  and  bad  boys,  and  end 
up  by  saying : 

"  Go  to  bed  now,  and  in  the  morning  I'll  attend  to  your 
case." 

K  you  take  him  to  church  and  he  looks  around,  kicks 
the  seat  or  smiles  at  some  boy  acquaintance,  thrash  him 
the  moment  you  get  home.  He  ought  to  have  been  listen- 
ing to  the  sermon.  If  he  sees  all  the  other  boys  going  to 
the  circus,  and  wants  fifteen  cents  to  take  him  in,  tell  him 
what  awful  wicked  things  circuses  are ;  how  they  demoral- 
ize boys ;  how  he  ought  to  be  thrashed  for  even  seeing  the 
procession  go  by ;  and  then  when  he's  sound  asleep  do  you 
sneak  off,  pay  half  a  dollar  to  go  in,  and  come  home  aston- 
ished at  the  menagerie  and  pleased  with  the  wonderful 
gymnastic  feats. 

Keep  your  boy  steady  at  school,  have  work  for  him  every 


272 


ENDING   HERE. 


holiday ;  thrash  him  if  he  wants  to  go  fishing  or  nutting ; 
restrain  his  desire  for  skates,  kites  and  marbles ;  rout  him 
out  at  daylight,  cold  or  hot ;  cuff  his  ears  for  asking  ques- 
tions ;  make  his  clothes  out  of  your  cast-off  garments,  and 
you'll  have  the  satisfaction,  when  old  and  gray-headed,  of 
knowing  that  you  would  have  trained  up  a  useful  member 
of  society  had  he  not  died  just  as  he  was  getting  well 
broken  in. 


CANVASSING  FOR  THE  WASHINGTON  MONUMENT. 


jLuTE  was  tall  and  spare,  long-haired  and  rustj-looking. 
tjA,  His  plug  liat  bore  many  dents  and  bruises,  as  if  long 
worn  and  sadly  used,  and  liis  black  coat  was  minus  of  but- 
tons, save  one,  and  that  liung  by  only  a  slight  tenure. 
His  boots  were  in  a  dilapidated  state,  his  pants  had  long 
ceased  to  have  any  commercial  value,  and  his  shirt-bosom 
bore  stains  and  spots  and  had  lost  all  the  firmness  and 

stiffiiess  which  made 
him  gaze  fondly  upon 
it  as  it  was  received 
l^;^"  from  the  laundr}-. 

He  softly  opened 
the  door  of  a  saloon, 
and  seeing  that  the 
saloon-keeper  was 
alone  he  grew  bolder, 
straightened  up  and 
walked  in. 

"  Sir,"  he  said   as 

he   leaned   over  the 

bar, "  I  am  an  author- 

^Y^y^ — ^=^-:        ized  agent  to  collect 

Authorized  Agent.  SUbscriptioUS    for  the 

Washington  monument — money  to  complete  it.  I  am 
canvassing  this  city  in  aid  of  this  uoble  work  of  national 
charity  and  pride." 

R  273 


274  NEVER    SAW    WASHINGTON. 

"  Did  you  slipokes  to  me  ?"  asked  the  saloon-keeper. 

"  Yes,  I  was  saying  that  I  am  an  authorized  agent  to 
collect  money  to  complete  the  Washington  monument." 

"  I  haf  not  zeen  him — I  guess  he  haf  gone  to  Toledo," 
answered  the  heer-vender. 

"  Sir,  you  misunderstand  me,"  continued  the  agent. 
"  My  name  is  Shiner,  and  I  am  soliciting  money  to  com- 
plete the  "Washington  monument.  The  Washington  monu- 
ment is  not  a  man,  but  a  stone  shaft — a  pillar — a  column, 
to  be  erected  by  the  American  nation  to  exhibit  its  grati- 
tude to  the  man  who  saved  this  country." 

"  Who  vhas  dot  man  ?"  asked  the  saloon-keeper. 

"  Washington,  sir — George  Washington,  generally  refer- 
red to  as  the  Father  of  his  country,"  answered  Shiner. 

"  Shorge  Washington  ?  I  haf  not  zeen  him,"  mused  the 
saloonist,  scratching  his  head. 

"  Of  course  you  haven't — ^he's  been  dead  almost  a  hun- 
dred years." 

"  Ish  dot  zo-o  '" 

"  Why,  certainly  it  is !  Of  course  none  of  us  ever  saw 
him,  but  who  has  not  read  of  him  !  Almost  every  house 
in  the  land  has  a  picture  of  him  on  the  wall,  and  every 
school-book  speaks  of  him." 

"  Yhas  he  a  member  of  de  gommon  gouncil  ?" 

"  My  dear  man,  didn't  you  ever  read  of  George  Wash- 
ington?" asked  Shiner.  "Is  it  possible  that  you  have 
lived  in  this  country  even  one  brief  month  and  not  read  or 
heard  all  about  the  first  President  of  the  Ignited  States !" 

"  Did  he  lif  in  Chicago  ?"  asked  the  saloon-man  in  an 
anxious  tone. 

"  Why — ^lia ! — why,  my  dear  man,  if  this  wasn't  such  a 
solemn  subject  I  should  feel  inclined  to  laugh.  Is  it  possi- 
ble that  I  have  come  across  an  adult  man  in  this,  the 
nineteenth  century,  in   this  age  of  progress   and  educa- 


NOT  WITH  GLASS  DOORS.  275 

tion,  and  in  this  era  of  unprecedented  advantages,  who 
does  not  know  all  about  the  great  and  memorable  George 
Washington !" 

"May-be  he  lifed  in  Milwaukee,  eh?"  inquired  the 
man,  getting  nervous. 

Shiner  stepped  back,  sighed  heavily,  assumed  the  look 
of  a  martyr,  and  finally  said : 

"Let  me  state  the  case  plainly:     George  Washington 
was  a  man." 
"Vlias  him!" 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  was  a  man.     He  took  command  of  our 
forces  in  1776,  whipped  the  British,  was  made  President 
two  terms,  and  died  about  sixty  years  ago." 
"  Vhat  ailed  him — der  shmall-box  ?" 
"No,  sir,  he  died  of  fever,  I  believe,  though  that  is 

neither  here  nor  there.    You  see,  he  was  a  big  man,  a " 

"  Did  he  weigh  tree  hoonerd  pounds  ?" 
"  I  mean  he  was  a  great  man,  and  he  was  also  a  good 
man.  Everybody  loved  him  for  his  good  deeds,  and  desir- 
ing to  keep  his  memory 
green  in  the  public 
heart  they  are  going  to 
erect  a  monument,  to  be 
called  the  Washington 
Monument." 

The  Base.  •^    ■=^J>'  "  Mit    glaSS     doOTS  ?" 

"  Glass  doors  !  E'o.  A  monument  is  made  of  stone — a 
high  shaft  or  pillar,  sometimes  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
high.  It  is  made  of  blocks  of  stone,  laid  up  solid,  and  will 
last  through  all  time.  This  Washington  monument  will  be 
as  large  as  this  house  at  the  base,  and  taper  up  to  a  height 
of  two  hundred  feet  or  more.  It  will  cost  a  large  sum  of 
of  money,  but  the  American  people  should  feel  honored  at 
the  privilege  of  contributing.     Thousands  of  dollars  have 


276 


wasn't  allowed  to  explain. 


been  expended  in  constructing  the  base,  q^nd  now  what  we 
want  is  money  to  go  ahead  with  the  shaft." 

"  You  vhant  zum  money — you  vhant  to  get  zum  bill 
shanged  ?"  asked  the  saloon-man. 

"As  I  told  you,"  replied  Shiner,  "I  am  an  authorized 
agent  to  collect  subscriptions  to  complete  the  monument. 
How  much  will  you  give  ?" 
"  I  gif  you  money !" 
"  Yes — how  much  ?" 
"  Yhat  for  ?" 

"  For  the  monument  to  Washington." 
"  Vliat  washingwoman  ?" 

"  Sir,  will  you  give  me  twenty-five  cents  to  help  com- 
plete the  Washington  monument  V 
"  Vhat  is  dat  ?" 

"  Shiner  stepped  back,  gazed  at  the  man 
with  despair  in  his  eyes,  and  then  asked : 

"  Must  I  repeat  my  statements  over  and 

over  again  ?     Can't  you  understand  me  ?" 

"  You  make  zum  fun  of  me,  eh !"  exclaimed 

|_=3  the   saloon-keeper.     "You  dinks  I  knows 

nottings,  eh  ?     Vliell  I  shall  show  you  pooty 

quick !     Do  you  zee  dis  glub  ?" 

"  My   dear   man,  let  me   explain,"    said 

^  Shiner;  "you  see " 

■^.-       ■- ^  "I  zee  nottings!"  shouted  the  man,  wav- 

"  But,  don't  you  understand  that  I  am  an  auth " 

"  Go  away  py  dat  door, awful  quick?"  roared  the  saloonist. 

"  But  won't  you  let  me " 

"  Shump  away  py  dat  door,  I  zay !"  shrieked  the  bar- 
tender, flourishing  his  club ;  and  Shiner  backed  out  and 
was  soon  after  seen  passing  himself  oif  as  a  Kansas  grass- 
hopper sufferer. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  A  BAGGAGE  SMASHER. 


fK!N^W  him.  It  was  years  ago.  His  name  was — 
well,  call  it  Bumps.  If  you  ever  get  into  a  railroad 
struggle,  where  one  train  struggles  to  get  another  off 
the  track,  you  will  know  more  ahout  Bumps,  or  your 
friends  will.  This  Bumps  was  a  nice  young  man.  His 
hair  was  always  combed  low  down  ;  he  wore  brass  buttons, 
and  there  was  a  mysterious  report  current  that  he  had  been 
known  to  call  on  the  sherry  for  three,  on  the  Fourth  of 
July,  and  actually  pay  for  it — pay  for  it,  sir !  We  held 
him  in  awe,  we  boys  did.  He  could  talk  about  lever- 
watches,  pointer  dogs,  steam  barges,  and  he  could  relate 
incidents  of  difficulties  in  prize  rings  so  beautifully  that  I 
used  to  wish  to  knock  some  one  in  the  stomach,  and  break 
some  ambitious  Englishman's  jaw-bone.  If  Bumps  said 
anything  the  whole  town  swore  that  it  was  so.  If  he  didn't 
say  anything  we  stood  back  and  waited  for  developments. 
At  last  he  went  away.  His  uncle  used  his  influence  to 
get  him  a  position  as  baggage-man.  I  never  heard  of 
him  for  years,  but  I  was  called  one  day  to  see  him  die.  I 
went  with  great  pleasure.  Bumps  was  a  mere  skeleton ; 
his  eyes  were  like  saucers ;  his  hair  was  all  worn  off,  from 
tearing  around  so  in  bed.  He  told  me  all  about  it.  He 
drove  everybody  out  of  the  room,  bade  me  string  up  my 
nerves  to  hear  a  mournful  tale,  and  then  he  commenced. 
He  went  on  the  railroad  a  pure  young  man.  He  took 
charge  of  trunks  and  boxes,  and  commenced  by  lifting 
277 


278  IN    THE    PATH    OF   DUTY. 

them  by  tlie  handles,  and  setting  them  down  carefully. 
He  had  not  served  a  month  when  the  President  of  the  road 
called  him  into  the  office,  cut  down  his  salary,  and  told 
him  if  there  was  any  more  complaints  from  the  conductor, 
Bumps  would  be  bumped  out  of  a  berth. 
Then  the  young  man  grew  cold  and  stern. 
He  was  bound  to  suit  the  railroad  corpo- 
ration or  die.  He  began  by  walking  up 
to  a  poor  old  chest  belonging  to  an  orphan, 
and  putting  his  foot  through  the  corner ; 
the  conductor  saw  the  act ;  the  two  shook 
hands,  and  they  wept  for  hours  on  each 
other's  breasts.  Bumps  had  not  made  two 
trips  before  he  could  sling  a  satchel  eleven 
When  he  was  Green,  rods,  retaining  both  handles  in  his  grasp. 
Innocent  owners  of  such  things  threatened  him,  and  com- 
menced suits  against  him,  and  swore  they  would  never  ride 
on  the  road  again  ;  but  Bumps  was  firm.  He  was  digni- 
fied ;  he  was  solemn ;  he  was  working  for  a  higher  sphere ; 
he  was  treading  in  the  path  of  duty. 

"When  gentle  females  would  hand  up  their  tender  little 
baskets  and  satchels.  Bumps  would  smile  a  diabolical  smile, 
and  get  in  a  corner  and  jump  on  the  articles  and  toss  them 
up  and  kick  them,  and  fling  them  them  through  ethereal 
space.  And  when  the  train  stopped  he  would  throw  out  a 
waterfall  and  tooth-brush  in  answer  to  call  for  check  "  22." 
Husbands  would  strike  at  him,  and  dare  him  out  of  his 
den,  and  call  him  a  base  fiend ;  but  Bumps  was  solemn ; 
he  knew  his  line  of  business.  When  he  got  hold  of  a  nice 
trunk  he  would  carry  a  countenance  like  a  strawberry,  for 
joyfulness.  He  would  jerk  off"  one  handle,  then  another, 
then  kick  in  the  ends,  then  take  an  axe  and  smash  the 
lock,  and  then  let  the  shirts  and  things  rattle  out  on  the 
track.     It  got  so  at  last  that  people  actually  paid  high 


THE   HATEFUL   TRUNK, 


279 


prices  for  the  privilege  of  living  along  tlie  line  of  that  road,, 
as  they  got  their  garments  for  nothing.  All  that  was. 
needed  was  to  have  the  children  follow  up  Bumps'  train. 
But  at  last  there  came  a  black  day.  A  miserable,  con- 
temptible, sneaking  wretch,  who  owned  a  saw-mill,  went 
traveling.  He  run  his  factories  two  weeks  on  nothing  but 
trunk-stuff,  and  he  brought  out  the  wickedest  trunk  that 
ever  went  into  a  car.  It  was  seven  feet  thick  all  round, 
and  there  were  sixteen  nails  driven  in  one  on  top  of  the 
other  until  the  thing  was  smash  proof  Then  he  gave  it 
into  Bumps'  hands,  charging  him  to  be  "  very  careful  if  he 
pleased."  The  train  started.  Bumps  got  the  axe  as  usual 
and  struck  at  the  lid,  but  the  axe  bounded  back.  He 
struck  once  more ;  tbe  axe  flew  in  pieces.  Then  he  got  a 
crowbar  and  a  can  of  powder,  but  he  couldn't  burst  a  nail. 
He  swore  and  jumped  up  and  down,  and  wanted  to  die, 
and  wished  he'd  never  been  born.  He  got  all  the  train 
men  in;  they  all  pounded,  but  the  trunk  held  firm.  It 
went  through  all  right.  It  was  handed  down  without  a 
jar,  and  the  owner  was  there  to  say  "  Thank  you,  sir,"  and 
he  pretended  he  was  going  back  again,  and  had  the  chest 
put  aboard  once  more.     Bumps  grew  pale.     He  grew  sick. 

His    lesrs    shook.      He    had 


chills  all  over  him.  The  big 
trunk  went  back  a  witness 
of  "  man's  inhumanity  to 
man."  Bumps  grew  worse. 
He  felt  that  he  was  forever 
disgraced,  and  went  to  bed 
with  the  brain  fever.  They 
<  tried  to  console  him,  and  said 
that  they  could  have  busted 

'Th£.    TKX.D   TO   C0^.0LE  HiM  "  ^J^^      ^J^^^^     Jf     ^^^^^     |^^^     ^^J^ 

thought  to  have  a  collision,  but  the  spirit  of  the  man  was 


280  couldn't  get  another. 

gone.  I  was  there  when  he  died.  I  never  want  to  weep 
as  I  wept  then.  He  just  shrunk  right  away,  murmuring 
«  Cuss  that  t-r-u-n-k." 

The  road  tried  to  get  another  man  just  like  him,  hut  it 
tried  in  vain.  It  secured  men  who  could  mash  trunks  and 
rip  open  satchels,  but  they  couldn't  stand  up  with  that 
sweet  smile  on  their  faces  and  apologize  to  passengers  in 
a  way  to  make  people  feel  ashamed  that  they  hadn't 
brought  along  more  trunks  to  be  demolished. 


THAT  HIRED  GIRL. 


'X^^T'nEN'  she  came  to  work  for  the  family  on  Congress 
^^T  street  the  lady  of  the  house  sat  down  and  told 
her  that  agents,  book-peddlers,  hat-rack  men,  picture  sel- 
lers, ash  buyers,  rag-men  and  all  that  class  of  men  must 
be  met  at  the  front  door  and  coldly  repulsed,  and  Sarah 
said  she'd  repulse  'em  if  she  had  to  break  every  broomstick 
in  Detroit. 

And  she  did.  She  threw  the  door  open  wide,  bluffed 
right  up  to  'em,  and  when  she  got  through  talking  the 
cheekiest  agent  was  only  too  glad  to  leave.  It  got  so  after 
a  while  that  peddlers  marked  that  house,  and  the  door  bell 
never  rang  except  for  company. 

The  other  day  as  the  lady  of  the  house  was  enjoying  a 
nap,  and  Sarah  was  wiping  off  the  spoons,  the  bell  rang. 
She  hastened  to  the  door  expecting  to  see  a  lady,  but  her 
eyes  encountered  a  slim  man,  dressed  in  black  and  wear- 
ing a  white  neck-tie.  He  was  the  new  minister,  and  ho 
was  going  around  to  get  acquainted  with  the  members  of 
his  flock,  but  Sarah  wasn't  expected  to  know  this. 

"  Allium — is  ^Nlrs. — ah " 

"  Git !"  exclaimed  Sarah,  pointing  to  the  gate. 

"Beg  pardon,  but  I'd  like  to  see — see " 

"Meander!"  she  shouted,  looking  around  for  a  weapon, 
"we  don't  want  any  flour-sifters  here  !" 

"You  are  mistaken,"  he  replied,  smiling  blandly    "I 

called  to " 

281 


282  BUT  HE  didn't  get  in. 

"  Don't  want  anything  to  keep  motlis  away — fly !"  slie 
exclaimed,  getting  red  in  the  face. 

"  Is  the  lady  in  ?"  he  inquired,  trying  to  look  over  Sarah's 
head. 

"Yes,  the  lady's  in,  and  I'm  in,  and  you're  out  I"  she 
snapped,  "  and  now  I  don't  want  to  stand  here  talking  to 
a  fly-trap  agent  any  longer !     Come,  lift  your  boots  !" 

"  I  am  not  an  agent,"  he  said,  trying  to  smile,  "  I'm  the 
new " 

"  Yes,  I  know  you — you  are  the  new  man  with  a  patent 
flat-iron,  but  we  don't  want  any,  and  you'd  better  go  before 
I  call  the  dog !" 

"  Will  you  give  the  lad}'  my  card  and  say  that  I  called  ?" 

"iTo,  I  won't.  We're  bored  to  death  with  cards  and 
handbills  and  circulars.     Come,  I  can't  stand  here  all  day." 

"  Didn't  you  know  that  I  was  a  minister  ?"  he  asked  as 
he  backed  ofil 

"  No,  nor  I  don't  know  it  now ;  you  look  like  the  man 
who  sold  the  woman  next  door  a  dollar  chromo  for  eighteen 
shillings!" 

"  But  here  is  my  card." 

"  I  don't  care  for  cards,  I  tell  you !  If  you  leave  that 
gate  open  I'll  heave  a  flower-pot  at  you  !" 

"  I  will  call  again,"  he  said  as  he  went  through  the  gate. 

"It  won't  do  you  any  good!"  she  shouted  after  him; 
"  we  don't  wan't  no  prepared  food  for  infants — no  piano 
music — no  stuffed  birds !  I  know  the  policeman  on  this 
beat,  and  if  you  come  around  here  again  he'll  soon  find 
out  whether  you  are  a  confidence  man  or  a  vagrant !" 

And  she  took  unusual  care  to  lock  the  door. 


AN  HOUR  AT  THE  CENTRAL  STATION  COURT. 


FEW  minutes  before  his  Honor's  time  for  putting  in 
an  appearance,  thirteen  boys,  marching  in  single  file, 

and  headed  by  a  boy  pounding  "  time  "  on  an  old  tin  pail, 

drew  up  at  the  door  and  called  for  Bijah. 

"  My  dear  children, 
why  this  unusual  dem- 
onstration ?"  inquired 
the  old  man  as  he  stood 
in  the  door. 

"We  fellers,"  said 
the  leader  of  the  boys, 
removing  his  old  hat, 
"  we  fellers  go  our  dol- 
lars on  you  every  time. 
You  are  kind,  inno- 
cent, good-hearted  and 
handsome,  and  we 
ain't  the  chaps  to  des- 
pise you  'cause  you're 
bald-headed  and  have 
big  feet.  We  feel  like 
we  owed  you  one,  and 
the  boys  have  a  little 

Th,=  sketch.  p^^g^^^     ^^^    y^^^        j^ 

didn't  cost  a  heap,  but  you  can  lay  it  away  in  the  bottom 

bureau  drawer,  and  the  moths  won't  even  dare  smell  it. 

288 


284  JULIA  THE   I. 

It  isn't  as  big  as  a  wagon  nor  as  valuable  as  a  corner  lot, 
but  we  hope  you'll  accept  it  and  treasure  it  as  coming  from 
tbose  who  love  you.'* 

The  boy  then  handed  out  a  well  executed  charcoal  sketch 
pinned  to  a  shingle.  It  was  meant  to  represent  Bijah  sit- 
ting on  a  six-rail  fence  spitting  tobacco  juice  into  a  William 
goat's  eyes.  He  received  it  tenderly,  and  tears  came  to 
his  eyes  as  he  said  : 

"  B-boys,  this  is  a  great  surprise.  I-I'm  an  old  man,  on 
my  way  to  the  grave,  but  I  love  the  b-boys,  and  I  hope 
every  one  of  you  may  live  to  be  G-Governor  of  Michigan. 
Each  of  you  can  go  up  to  the  hat  store  and  get  a  p-plug 
hat  on  my  account." 

The  sketch  was  taken  in  and  leaned  up  against  the  wall, 
and  his  Honor  having  arrived 

JULIA   DAVIS 

Was  escorted  from  the  corridor.  She  was  such  a  short,  fat 
woman  that  his  Honor  had  to  rise  up  and  lean  over  the 
desk  to  look  at  her.  As  she  rolled  her  eyes  up  in  an 
appealing  manner  he  said : 

"  Julia,  how  on  earth  could  you  get  so  drunk  that  the 
men  were  obliged  to  draw  you  down  here  on  a  painted 
cart?" 

"  Drinking  whisky,  I  suppose,"  she  replied,  in  a  voice 
highly  tinctured  with  asthma. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,  too ;  but  an  old  woman  like  you, 
and  a  fat  one  at  that,  should  feel  above  such  things.  It 
makes  me  sad,  Julia,  to  see  a  woman  degrade  herself  like 
this.     How  must  your  husband  feel  ?" 

"  He  gets  drunk,  too !"  she  answered,  coughing  heavily. 

"Ah,  he  does !     But  think  of  your  poor  children." 

"  I  haven't  a  child  in  the  world !"  she  coughed. 

"Julia,"  said  his  Honor,  after  a  long  pause,  "Julia 


THE    MAN  WHO    HOLLERED.  285 

Davis,  do  you  know  wlicre  you  will  go  to  when  you  die — 
do  you  care  ?" 

"  To  tlie  (cough)  graveyard,  I  suppose," 
she  answered. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  as  he  settled  back, 
"  your  being  fat  is  no  excuse  for  your  being 
drunk,  and  I'll  make  it  thirty  days." 

PASSING   THROUGH. 

"  Have  you  any  excuse  for  hollering  on 
the  streets  at  midnight?"  inquired  the 
Court  of  Tim  Johnson. 

"  'No  excuse,  'cept  dat  I  didn't  holler," 
Julia.  ~  replied  the  prisoner. 
"  Do  you  stand  up  there  and  deny  the  allegation  ?" 
"  No,  sir,  but  I  denies  hollering.  I  saw  Ben  Lewis  on 
de  corner,  and  I  jist  remarked  :  '  Ho  dere,  Ben !'  when  de 
cop  comes  up  and  grabs  me.  Dere  was  no  yelling  nor 
hollering — hope  to  be  struck  dead  as  dat  cheer  if  dere 
was !" 

The  officer  couldn't  make  out  a  very  strong  case,  and 
his  Honor  said : 

"  Tim  or  Timothy  Johnson,  this  has  been  a  very  narrow 
escape  for  you.  Theoretically,  you  liave  been  sitting  on  a 
keg  of  powder,  liable  to  be  blown  higher  than  Gildcroy's 
kite  by  some  untoward  accident.  You  may  go  home,  but 
don't  holler  to  Ben  Lewis  or  anybody  else  again.  This  is 
a  big  world,  full  of  strange  people,  and  the  best  thing  you 
can  do  is  to  slide  softly  and  gently  along  with  your  mouth 
shut." 

"  Dat's  what  I  shall  purceed  to  do,"  answered  the  pris- 
oner, and  he  backed  out,  sighed  a  sigh  for  his  lost  umbrella, 
and  meandered  away. 


286  KICHARD    HAD    TO    GO. 

A   BEG'LAB. 

"  He's  a  regular,"  said  Bijali  as  he  brought  out  Richard 
Dolan.  "  He  says  he  can  kick  the  top  of  your  head  ofl'  as 
slick  as  buttermilk  running  oif  the  table,  and  he's  been 
cussing  and  taking  on  awfully." 

"  You  made  those  remarks,  did  you  ?"  asked  the  Court 
as  he  laid  aside  his  Seek-no-further. 

"  ^o,  sir — never  said  a  word,"  replied  Richard. 

"  Because,"  continued  the  Court,  "  when  a  man  wants  to 
lay  for  me,  and  do  kicking,  and  so  forth,  he  needn't  hold 
back  any  on  account  of  my  official  position.  I'm  edging 
up  to  fifty,  and  I  can't  go  out  nights  with  the  boys  and 
hook  mellons  any  more,  but  I'm  up  to  business  when  the 
chip  is  knocked  from  my  shoulder.  The  warrant  charges 
you  with  drunkenness." 

"  It's  a  lie  !"  exclaimed  the  prisoner. 

"  That's  all  I  want  to  hear  of  that !"  replied  his  Honor, 
lifting  his  spectacles.  "  I  see  by  your  face  that  you  are  a 
low-down,  good  for  nothing  loafer,  and  I  send  you  up  for 
three  months." 

The  prisoner  grasped  the  iron  railing,  but  Bijah  fastened 
his  cant-hooks  into  the  fellow's  neck-handkerchief,  gave  a 
half  twist,  and  Richard  Dolan  followed  along  behind,  his 
face  the  color  of  a  horse-plum.  The  old  janitor  is  regular 
hook-and-ladder  company  in  himself,  and  when  he  fastens 
to  anything  it's  got  to  come  if  it  isn't  chained. 

POT  CALLING  KETTLE  BLACK. 

"  William  Henry  Lovegood,  and  Mary  Ann  Lovegood, 
you  are  charged  here  with  disturbing  the  peace  by  indulg- 
ing in  a  family  row,"  said  his  Honor. 

"Sure,  sir,  I'm  a  poor  old  man,"  whined  William 
Henry. 

"And  I'm  a  poor  old  woman,"  whined  Mary  Ann. 


MARY  ANN   AND   WILLIAM. 


287 


«  Well,  what  started  this  fight  ?" 

"  He  struck  me  !"  she  said. 

"  She  struck  me  !"  he  said. 

"  You  lie  !"  she  screamed. 

"  You  lie  back  !"  he  shrieked. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  cease  those  remarks  at  once," 
said  his  Honor.  "  I  haven't  the  least  doubt  that  you  both 
lie,  and  I  presume  you  are  both  at  fault.  You  can  go;  and 
my  advice  to  the  police  is  to  let  you  fight  and  howl  and 
pull  hair  until  you  get  tired  of  it.  I've  had  you  up  here 
so  often  that  I'm  going  to  try  another  plan." 

They  went  out  growling,  and  it  wasn't 
five  minutes  before  a  boy  came  running  in 
and  said  that  Mary  Ann  had  William  H. 


down  on  the  walk  and  was  "just  a  pounding  old  lightning 
out  of  him." 

When  court  adjourned  Bijah  turned  to  show  his  present 
to  his  Honor,  but  lo !  some  callous  wretch  had  placed  two 
quids  over  Bijah's  eyes  in  the  sketch,  and  the  whole  had 
been  ruined.  When  the  reporters  left,  the  old  man  was 
around  in  the  crowd  ofiering  $5,000,000  reward  for  the 
scoundrel,  but  meeting  with  no  encouragement. 


SEEING  THE  MENAGERIE. 


fliad  paused  for  a  long  time  before  the  show-case  con- 
taining four  rattlesnakes,  a  boa-constrictor  and  several 
other  reptiles,  and  was  taking  a  peep  at  the  skull  of 
Oliver  Cromwell,  when  the  pair  came  in. 

He  was  a  young  man  of  tliree-and-twenty.  She  was 
about  eighteen.  One  could  see  in  a  moment  that  he  had 
great  conceit.  His  hat  was  slanted  on  his  left  ear,  his  pant- 
legs  were  lifted  enough  to  show  the  red  tops  of  his  boots, 
and  his  head  and  shoulders  rolled  this  way  and  that  as  he 
walked. 

It  was  a  fair  museum  of  natural  wonders  attached  to  a 
circus,  and  the  dust  on  the  young  man's  boots  and  back 
was  proof  that  he  had  made  a  journey  of  several  miles, 
accompanied  by  the  girl,  to  see  what  was  to  be  seen.  She 
knew  nothing — he  knew  everything. 

"  There,  Mariar,"  he  said,  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  skull 
and'  the  placard  beside  it ;  "  there's  something  mighty 
interesting — the  skull  of  Oliver  Cromwell." 

"  Who  was  it  ?"  she  mildly  inquired. 

"  Of  course  you  don't  know,"  he  replied,  swelling  out  his 
chest;  "he  was  the  durndest  feller  I  ever  met.  I  rode 
with  him  in  the  cars  once  when  I  was  going  to  Dayton, 
and  though  he  was  like  a  lamb  that  day,  I  could  see  mur- 
der sticking  right  out  of  his  eyes.  He  killed  a  hull  family 
the  very  next  week  after  that,  and  was  hung  in  Cincinnati. 
288 


now  HE  LAID  'em.  289 

He  sent  -^ord  for  me  to  come  and  see  liim  liung,  but  I 
couldn't  go — liad  to  sow  buckwlicat  that  daj-." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  awe  and  admiration  plain 
to  be  read  on  her  face,  and  they  moved  along  to  the  cage 
containing  the  Ibex. 

"  Humph  !  that's  the  worst-looking  Ibex  I  ever  saw,"  he 
growled  as  he  leaned  over  the  rope. 

"  He  looks  fierce,  though,"'  she  whispered. 

"  Fierce  ?  you  bet  he  is !  But  he  couldn't  commence 
with  some  of  those  Ibexes  I  killed  out  on  the  plains  !  Did 
I  ever  show  you  that  scar  on  my  leg  where  an  Ibex  clawed 
me  one  night  ?" 

"  I — I  guess  not." 

"Well,  I  "will  sometime.  ^Hien  the}-  go  for  a  feller, 
they  fight  to  kill,  but  I  laid  thirteen  of  'em  out  colder'n  a 
wedge  !'*' 

"  Here's  the  Polar  bear,"  she  said,  as  they  reached  the 
next  cage. 

"  He  don't  amount  to  much,"  replied  the  young  man — 
"  don't  commence  with  the  one  I  killed  near  Medina,  in 
1859." 

"  I  didn't  know  as  you  ever  killed  a  bear !"  she  exclaimed 
in  great  surprise. 

"  Well,  the  more  you  get  acquainted  with  me,  the  more 
you  will  know  about  me,"  he  replied.  "  I've  killed  hun- 
dreds of  wild  animals,  and  not  mentioned  it  to  even  my 
own  mother." 

"  ^Tiy  do  they  call  'em  '  Polar  bears  ?' "  she  asked  as 
they  turned  to  the  cage  again. 

"  "Why  do  they  ?     Why  do  they  call  'em  Polar  bears  ? 
Why,  because,  when  they  chase  a  man  up  a  tree,  they  hunt 
around,  get  a  pole  and  jab  at  him  until  they  knock  him 
down,  and  tlien  they  craunch  him  in  a  second." 
S 


290  AND   THAT   BONANZA. 

She  was  perfectly  satisfied  witli  the  explanation,  and 
they  moved  along  to  the  den  of  lions. 

"  My  stars !  what  savage  monsters !"  she  exclaimed,  as 
the  pair  of  lions  rose  up. 

"  Savage  ?  Well,  if  you  call  them  savage,  I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  the  three  lions  which  I  killed  when  I  lived 
down  near  Oberlin !  The  three  of  'em  weighed  just  a  ton, 
and  their  claws  Avere  seven  inches  long !  Their  skins  are 
in  the  museum  there  now." 

"  I — I  don't  be never  heard   about   it  before,"  she 

stammered. 

"  Mariar,  do  you  believe  I'd  lie  to  you  about  such  a  sim- 
ple thing  as  killing  three  lions,  when  here  we  are  engaged 
to  be  married  ?"  he  inquired,  in  an  injured  tone. 

"  iN" — no,  I  guess  you  wouldn't,"  she  replied;  "it  wouldn't 
be  right." 

They  walked  along  to  the  cage  containing  a  pair  of 
tigers.  I  expected  to  hear  him  announce  that  he  had 
killed  several  tigers  during  his  boyhood  days,  and  was 
therefore  greatly  disappointed  when  he  quietly  remarked : 

"  I've  often  wished  I  could  meet  a  tiger  when  I  was 
going  home  Sunday  nights,  but  they've  always  kept  clear 
o'  me.  They  know  what  they'd  get  if  they  come  foolin' 
around  me !" 

The  next  cage  contained  a  hyena,  but  there  was  no 
placard,  and  when  she  asked  him  what  sort  of  an  animal 
it  was,  he  was  stuck. 

She  said  she  had  a  mind  to  ask  somebody,  when  a  broad 
smile  covered  his  face,  and  he  replied  : 

"  I  was  just  tryin'  you,  Mariar !  I  knew  all  the  time, 
and  I  wanted  to  see  if  you  knew.  That  animile  is  a 
Bonanza !" 

"  I  never  heard  of  him  afore." 

"  Of  course   not — there's   lots   of  animiles  you  never 


AND   THE   WILD   CATS,  291 

heard  of;  but  when  I  used  to  drive  stage  into  "Wellsville, 
I  heard  those  fellers  hootin'  and  howlin'  in  the  swamp  like 
all  get  out !" 

"  Why  I  didn't  know  you  ever  drove  stage." 

"  I  don't  tell  everybody  about  it,  but  as  long  as  we  are 
engaged  to  be  married  it  won't  do  any  hurt,"  he  continued, 
his  face  wearing  a  placid  smile.  "  One  dark  night,  when 
you  couldn't  see  your  hand  afore  your  eyes,  eighteen  of 
those  animiles  pitched  on  to  the  stage." 

«  They  did  ?" 

**  Yes,  cum  in  a  drove,  and  such  howls  and  snarls  and 
squawls  and  yowls  and  growls  you  never  heard  in  all  your 
born  days  !    Some  stage-drivers  would  have  fainted  away." 

lie  waited  at  that  point.  He  wanted  her  to  make  an 
inquiry,  and  she  made  it,  and  he  replied : 

"  I  didn't  take  a  back  seat  for  no  eighteen  Bonanzas.  I 
was  just  as  cool  as  I  am  now.  I  stopped  the  stage,  tied 
the  lines  to  the  brake,  whipped  out  my  revolver  and  bowie- 
knife,  jumped  down,  and  I  tell  you  there  was  business  for 
about  an  hour  and  a  half!" 

«  Did  you  kill  any  ?" 

"  Kill  any  ?  Why,  Mariar,  you  don't  know  me  yet !  I 
killed  every  one ;  and  when  I  got  through  with  'em  the 
road  was  almost  knee-deep  in  blood !  The  only  hurt  I 
got  was  where  one  of  'em  bit  me  in  the  back,  right  between 
my  shoulders,  and  the  wound  is  healed  up  now  so  it  don't 
bother  me  any.  Pass  your  hand  over  my  back,  Mariar — 
there — right  there — can't  you  feel  a  kind  of  a  spot 
there  ?" 

"Yes — seems  as  if  I  could." 

"  lie  took  a  chunk  right  out,  but  I  paid  'em  for  it.  ITow 
less  go  and  see  the  snakes." 

She  drew  back  from  the  show-case  with  a  shudder,  and 
he  put  his  arm  around  her  and  said : 


292  AND   THOSE    ELEPHANTS. 

"  Don't  be  scart,  Mariar ;  your  Oscar  Henry  is  here — 
right  here  beside  you !" 

"  See  their  eyes  gUsten  !"  she  whispered. 

"I  don't  care  two  cents  for  their  ghstening  eyes!"  he 
bravely  repKed.     "  I've  seen  snakes  afore  to-day." 

"  'Not  such  big  ones." 

"  Mariar,  you  don't  think  I'd  he  to  you,  do  you,  when 
we're  goin'  to  be  married  next  month?  ISTo,  I  coukhi't  do 
it.  Those  are  just  common  snakes,  Mariar.  When  I  was 
driving  canal-boat  I  used  to  carr}^  a  sword  to  kill  snakes, 
and  I've  killed  millions  of  'em  four  times  as  large  as 
these !" 

"When  did  you  drive  canal-boat?"  she  asked,  a  look  of 
doubt  in  her  eyes. 

"  Mariar,  I  wouldn't  lie  to  you,  would  I  ?" 

"  Seems  as  if  you  wouldn't." 

"  Well,  when  I  say  that  I've  killed  bigger  snakes  than 
these,  I  mean  it." 

From  the  show-case  they  crossed  over  to  the  camels,  and 
he  reached  out  and  patted  one  of  the  animals  and  said : 

"  I  wish  I  had  as  many  dollars  as  I've  rode  miles  on  the 
backs  of  these  camels." 

"  Did  you  ever  ride  a  camel  ?" 

"  Did  I  ever  ?  Well,  wish  the  circus  man  would  let  me 
take  one  o'  these  out  and  gallop  around  a  little  while !" 

When  they  reached  the  corner  where  the  elephant  was 
chained  my  time  was  up  and  I  had  to  go.  I  heard  her 
remark  that  she  never  saw  such  a  large  elephant,  and  as  I 
walked  away  he  was  saying : 

"  Well,  you  never  traveled,  you  see.  I  wish  you'd  been 
along  the  time  father  and  I  went  to  Indiana.  We  were 
chased  over  forty  times  by  elephants,  and  the  smallest  of 
'em  was  more'n  four  times  as  largo  as  this  one !" 


WHAT  THREE  WOMEN  SAID. 


ITE  other  day,  on  the  way  to  Cleve- 
haiul,  I  sat  behind  three  women  for 
an  hour  or  two.  They  were  all 
friendly  to  each  other,  and  they 
didn't  mind  my  presence. 

"  Did  you  hear  about  Sarah  Par- 
sons ?"  asked  one. 
"  Goodness  !    No  !"  answered  the  other. 
"  Well,  Sarah's  got  her  pay,  I  tell  you  !"  continued  the 
first.     "  You  know  she  was  a  whole  year  trying  to  catch 
that  red-headed  widower.     Well,  she  finally  married  him ; 
and  what  do  you  think  ?     They  say  that  he  sneers  at  her — 
actually  uses  oaths — when  things  go  wrong;    keeps  her 
from  going  to  church ;  is  sot  against  company ;  and  won't 
let  her  use  above  two  eggs  in  a  sweet-cake !" 
"  Mon-ster-ous  !"  exclaimed  the  others. 
There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  then  one  of  the 
trio  spoke  up : 

"  Did  you  know  that  ^Irs.  Lancey  had  a  new  empress- 
cloth  dress  ?" 

"  You  don't  say !"  exclaimed  the  otlicrs. 
"  Yes,  I  do — I  know  it  for  a  fact,  for  she  wore  it  past  our 
house  the  other  day.     The  dress  never  cost  less  than  seven 
dollars — the  bare  cloth,  and  then  there's  the  making  and 
293 


294 


AND    THAT    HAT. 


trimmings  thrown  in  !  Just  think  of  a  woman  in  her  cir- 
cumstances going  to  such  an  ex^Dense !  Why,  if  I  hadn't 
seen  it  with  my  own  eyes  I  couldn't  believe  it !" 

"  It  is  awful !"  exclaimed  the  others. 

"  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  she  seems  to  hold  her  head  so 
high !"  continued  the  first.  "  I've  heard  that  her  grand- 
father had  to  go  to  the  poor-house  when  he  broke  his  leg, 
and  yet  she  holds  her  head  up  with  the  best  of  us !  Of 
course  I  don't  want  to  back-bite  any  one — it  isn't  my 
nature  to  talk  behind  people's  backs — but  I  will  say  that 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  such  extravagance  brought  that 
family  to  want  for  bread  before  spring  comes !" 


iN'othing  was  said  for  the  next  five  minutes,  and  then  one 
of  the  other  two  exclaimed : 

"  Land  sakes  !  but  I'd  almost  forgotten  to  tell  you  Lizzie 
Thorburn  has  a  new  hat !" 

"  Wliat !     Another !" 

"  Yes,  another ;  she  wore  it  to  church  last  Sunday ! 
Think  of  that — a  girl  having  three  hats  in  one  year ! 

"  Shameful !"  they  cried  in  chorus. 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  world  is  coming  to,"  continued 
the  first.     "  When  I  was  a  girl,  one  hat  had  to  last  me 


TALLER    SOAP.  295 

seven  years,  while  now,  a  girl  wants  two  a  year — if  not 
three.  I  tell  you,  when  I  sat  in  church  last  Sunday,  and 
saw  Lizzie  come  shying  in  with  that  new  hat  (must  have 
cost  three  dollars  at  the  least),  I  felt  queer.  The  fate  of  the 
sinful  people  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  came  to  my  mind 
in  a  second ;  and  I  shouldn't  have  heen  surprised  if  Lizzie 
had  then  been  stricken  right  down  !" 

They  pondered  over  it  for  two  or  three  minutes,  and 
then  one  of  them  replied : 

"  So,  Mary  Jane  Doolittle  is  dead,  is  she  ?" 

"  Yes,  poor  thing,"  was  the  reply ;  "  dead  and  buried  a 
week  ago.  Hannah  was  at  the  funeral,  and  she  says  that 
Doolittle  never  shed  a  tear — never  even  blew  his  nose  !" 

"He  didn't?" 

"  No,  he  didn't.  Hannah  watched  him  all  through,  and 
she  says  he  has  a  heart  like  a  stone.  If  he  should  be 
arrested  as  her  murderer  I  shouldn't  be  the  least  bit  sur- 
prised. Poor  woman  !  I  met  her  only  last  August,  and  I 
could  see  that  she  was  killing  herself.  I  didn't  ask  her 
right  out  about  it,  but  I  could  understand  that  Doolittle 
was  a  cold-hearted  wretch.  He  didn't  have  much  to  say, 
but  just  one  remark  convinced  me  of  his  cold-heartedness. 
He  asked  for  soap  to  wash  himself,  and  when  she  handed 
him  a  piece  he  looked  at  it,  sneered  like,  and  says  he : 

'  Mary  Jane,  you  mustn't  buy  any  more  yaller  soap  ?' " 

"  Did  he  say  that  ?" 

"  He  certainly  did.  I'll  go  before  any  court  and  swear 
to  it !" 

I  had  to  get  off  the  train  then,  and  missed  further  con- 
versation. 


JACKSON  GREEN. 


fACKSON  GREEN  was  fourteen  years  old,  and  he 
lived  in  Columbus.  The  other  day,  while  reading  a 
dime  novel,  his  grandfather  came  in  with  the  paper  and 
asked  him  to  read  the  President's  message.  It  irritated 
Jackson  to  break  oif  his  story  Just  where  a  trapper  was 
going  to  be  scalped,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  have 
revenge  on  his  grandfather.  He  took  up  the  paper  and 
started  oif  as  follows  : 

[The  business  of  the  Patent  Office  shows  a  steady 
increase.  Since  1836  over  155,000  patents  have  been 
issued.  Officer  Deck,  of  the  station  house,  wants  it  dis- 
tinctly underBtood  that  he  is  not  the  Deck  confined  there 
a  few  days  since  as  a  lunatic] 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  old 

man,  "is  that  in  the  message?" 

"  Right  here,  every  word  of 

it!"  replied  Jackson.    And  he 

continued : 

[The  business  of  the  Agri- 
cultural Bureau  is  rapidly  in- 
creasing, and   the  department 
grounds   are    being   enlarged, 
and  the  highest  prize  in  a  Chinese  lottery  is  twenty-nine 
cents,  and  the  man  w^ho  draws  it  has  his  name  in  the  paper, 
and  is  looked  upon  as  a  heap  of  a  fellow.] 
296 


"■^^^^\  ct^^^V 


JACKSON    didn't    WRITE    IT.  2l»7 

"  "Wliat !  wliat  is  that  ?"  roared  the  old  man.  "  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  message  as  that !" 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  replied  Jackson ;  "  you  asked  me  to 
read  the  President's  message,  and  I'm  reading  it."  And 
he  went  on  : 

[During  the  year,  5,758  new  applications  for  army  invalid 
pensions  were  allowed,  at  an  aggregate  annual  rate  of 
$39,332,  and  kerosene  oil  is  the  best  furniture  oil;  it 
cleanses,  adds  a  polish,  and  preserves  from  the  ravages  of 
insects.] 

"  Lor'  save  me  !  but  I  never  heard  of  the  likes  before  !" 
exclaimed  the  old  man.  "  I've  read  every  President's  mes- 
sage since  Jackson's  time,  but  I  never  saw  anything  like 
this !" 

"  AVell,  I  didn't  write  the  message,"  replied  Jackson,  and 
he  continued : 

[During  the  year,  3,264,332  acres  of  the  public  domain 
were  certified  to  railroads,  against  over  six  millions  of  acres 
the  preceding  year,  and  you  will  save  money  by  buying 
your  Christmas  presents  in  the  brick  block — fine  toys  of 
every  description,  at  reduced  prices,] 

"  Jackson  Green,  does  that  message  read  that  way  ?" 
asked  the  old  man. 

"You  don't  suppose  I'd  lie  to  you,  do  you?"  inquired 
Jackson,  putting  on  an  injured  look. 

"  "Well,  it  seems  singular,"  mused  the  old  man.  "  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  Grant  was  tired  when  he  wrote  that." 

Jackson  went  on  : 

[There  are  17,900  survivors  of  the  war  of  1812  on  the 
pension  rolls,  at  a  total  annual  rate  of  $1,691,520,  and  still 
another  lot  of  those  one  dollar  felt  skirts ;  they  go  like  hot 
cakes  on  a  cold  morning,] 

"  Hold  on,  Jackson — stop  right  there  !"  said  the  old  man 
as  he  rose  up.     "  You  needn't  read  another  word  of  tliat 


298  AN    AWFUL    EXAMPLE. 

message.  If  General  Grant  thinks  he  can  insult  the 
American  people  with  impunity,  he  will  find  himself  mis- 
taken. You  may  throw  the  paper  in  the  stove,  Jackson, 
and  let  this  be  an  awful  example  to  you  never  to  taste 
intoxicating  drinks." 

Jackson  tossed  the  paper  away  and  resumed  his  dime 
novel,  while  the  old  gent  leaned  back  and  pondered  on  the 
degradation  of  men  in  high  places. 


NIAGARA   FALLS. 


f  HERE'S  water  enough  to  make  them  a  perfect  success. 
I  learned  from  the  depot-master  that  ]^ature  made 
the  Falls,  but  he  wouldn't  commit  himself  when  I  inquired 
as  to  the  hackmen,  landlords  and  relic-sellers. 

I  thought  I  had  strength  enough  to  walk  from  the  depot 
to  a  hotel,  a  matter  of  three  or  four  hundred  feet,  but 
seven  or  eight  hackmen  rushed  at  me,  and  yelled  ; 


"  II_a_cks— hacks !" 

After  tlie  police  had  stopped  the  fight,  I  started  for  the 
hotel,  followed  by  six  hackmen  in  line.     Some  thouglit  it 
299 


300  .  CLERK    AND    WAITER. 

was  a  funeral  procession,  and  others  took  me  for  a  lord. 
When  I  reached  the  hotel  the  hackmen  demanded  fifty 
cents  eacli,  saying  that  it  was  the  same  fare  whether  I  rode 
or  walked. 

"  But  how  could  I  ride  up  here  in  six  hacks  at  once  ?" 

They  replied  that  I  couldn't  bluff"  them  with  any  rule  of 
addition,  division  or  multiplication,  and  rather  than  seem 
penurious  I  paid  them  three  dollars. 

The  hotel  clerks  at  Niagara  are  alone  a  sight  worth 
traveling  from  Detroit  to  see.  They  look  down  on  a  com- 
mon traveler  as  a  Newfoundland  dog  would  gaze  at  a  pin- 
head.  At  the  hotel  where  I  halted,  I  had  to  take  off"  my 
hat,  assume  a  reverential  expression  of  countenance,  and 
address  the  clerk  as  follows  : 

"  Most  high  and  noble  duke  of  the  register,  would  you 
condescend  to  permit  a  poor  humble  worm  of  the  dust  like 
me  to  ask  you  what  time  the  train  from  the  west  is  due 
here  ?" 

If  he  felt  like  it,  he  would  take  his  eyes  from  the  ceiling, 
turn  around  on  his  stool,  flash  his  diamonds  into  my  eyes 
and  point  to  the  time-card  on  the  wall ;  but  if  he  didn't 
feel  like  it,  he  wouldn't  pay  the  least  attention. 

The  Niagara  hotel  waiter  is  only  one  peg  beneath  the 
clerk.  He  has  heard  about  John  Jacob  Astor  and  the 
Rothschilds,  but  he  wouldn't  compromise  his  reputation 
by  saying  that  he  was  intimately  acquainted  with  them.  I 
didn't  know  how  to  take  him  at  first,  and  was  reckless 
enough  to  put  a  dollar  Inll  beside  my  plate  at  supper  time. 

"  What  is  that  ?"  he  inquired,  as  he  picked  it  up. 

"That?  That,  sir,  is  lucre — dross — money — a  green- 
back," I  responded. 

"  Humph  !  you'd  better  keep  it — you  might  want  to  buy 
the  Falls,"  he  retorted. 

I   thought  some  of  handing  him  my  wallet,  but  as  I 


SLIM    CONSOLATION.  301 

didn't,  I  had  to  make  my  supper  out  of  pepper,  salt,  ccleiy 
and  crackers. 

The  guide  is  another  feature  of  ISTiagara.  The  one  who 
took  me  around,  showed  me  Goat  Island  from  fourteen 
ditierent  points,  and  wanted  two  dollars  a  point,  and  when 
I  growled  about  the  price,  he  sneeringly  replied  that  if  I 


One  of  the  Points. 

had  come  there  to  get  a  one-horse  view  of  the  Falls,  I 
should  have  brought  a  tent  and  some  crackers  and  cheese 
along,  and  camped  out  on  the  commons. 

The  relic-sellers  came  at  me  in  a  body.  I  at  first  refused 
to  buy  Thomas  Jefierson's  arm-chair  and  Washington's 
cane,  but  the  guide  told  me  a  story  about  a  miserly  fellow 
who  was  thrown  over  the  falls  for  refusing  to  purchase 
relics,  and  I  felt  compelled  to  select  twelve  Indian  canoes, 
six  Revolutionary  muskets,  a  quart  of  Mexican  war  bullets, 
several  war-clubs,  and  an  armful  of  tomahawks. 

I  left  Niagara  with  only  one  thing  to  console  me.  It  has 
been  ascertained  that  the  Falls  arc  wearing  away  at  the 
rate  of  an  inch  every  three  hundred  years,  and  it  won't  be 
long  before  the  cataract  will  be  completely  worn  out. 


OF  COURSE  HE  DID. 


jTf;-T  E  was  a  finely  dressed  yonng  man,  having  a  gorgeous 
(i*-,-^  paste  diamond  and  lavender  pants,  and  as  lie  handed 
a  boy  a  bundle  and  a  bouquet  he  said : 

"  Now,  bub,  look  sharp.    Take  this  bouquet  to  Miss , 

at  No.  17 street,  and  take  these  two  shirts  around  to 

the  laundry  to  be  washed.     Don't  make  a  mistake,  now." 

"You  bet,"  replied  the  boy,  but  he  went  directly  to 

No.  17 street  and  handed  the  two  shirts  to  Miss , 

and  said : 

"  Your  feller  sent  them,  %\ith  his  compliments — and  he 
said  you'd  better  put  'em  into  water  the  first  thing,  as  they 
are  rayther  delicate!" 

The   young   man    sought  to  explain   matters,  but  the 
young  lady  clenched  her  hands  and  said  that  her  letters 
must  be  returned  or  there  would  be  a  lawsuit. 
302 


AN  ABUSED  BOOK. 


L  MAN  ACS  are   so  common 
now-a-days  that  people  scarce- 
ly ever  look  into  them,  and  a 
majority  would    scofl'  at 
the  idea  of  finding  enter- 
taining and  instruct- 
ive reading  between 
the   yellow   covers. 
But  I  care  for  noth- 
ing more  than  to 
sit  down  of  a  long 
winter  evening 
and  peruse  my 
family  Alma- 
nac. 
In  what  other 

book  can  be  found  the  fact  that  "  Spica  rises  10  22  e  "  on 
the  9th  of  January  ?  A  great  many  people  will  live  right 
over  that  day  and  never  think  of  Spica  rising,  or  if  they 
do  they  won't  care  a  copper  whether  it  rises  10  22  e,  or 
7  14g. 

But   for   the   Almanac  who  would   stop  to  think  that 

Galileo  was  born  on  the  15th  of  January,  1564  ?     Poor 

Gal !     Born  into  this  world  without  a  shirt  to  his  back, 

see  what  a  name  he  made !     I  never  pick  up  an  Almanac 

30  a 


30-1  OTHER    GREAT    EVENTS. 

and  see  Ms  name  without  wondering  wliere  he  is  now,  and 
why  some  patent  medicine  man  don't  hunt  him  up  and  get 
his  name  to  a  certificate.  We  couldn't  all  be  born  in  1564, 
but  we  can  all  be  respectable  and  refuse  to  become  book 
canvassers. 

And  but  for  this  book  who  of  us  would  know  that  the 
12th  of  Februarv  is  "  in  perihelion  ?"  We  would  go  right 
on  with  our  business  and  never  think  of  it.  Perihelion 
would  go  to  grass  if  it  wasn't  for  the  unceasing  literary 
labor  of  a  few  men,  who  are  not  half  appreciated. 

"  Aldebaran  sets  8  18  e  "  on  the  9th  of  April,  but  how 
few  people  will  be  prepared  for  it !  Some  will  be  going  a 
visiting,  others  will  be  drunk,  others  will  be  running  for 
Alderman.  And  on  the  18th,  when  "  Procyon  sets  10  10  e," 
how  many  will  give  the  awful  event  any  attention  ? 

On  the  18th  of  September  "  Pollux  rises  12  6."  How 
many  of  us  can  sympathize  with  poor  Poll  as  he  gets  out 
of  bed  at  six  minutes  after  12  and  rubs  sweet  oil  on  the 
baby's  nose  to  help  its  cold  in  the  head,  but  the  chances 
are  we  won't  remember  the  date. 

On  the  15th  of  jS'ovember,  1531,  Cowper  was  born,  but 
how  few  ever  stop  to  think  of  it !  We  go  right  on  with 
our  business  the  same  as  if  Cowper  hadn't  lived  at  all,  and 
we  never  wonder  if  his  liabilities  were  greater  than  his 
assets,  nor  whether  he  married  a  freckled-faced  girl  with  a 
long  nose,  or  a  fat  woman  with  a  voice  like  an  old  file. 
He  has  been  dead  several  years,  but  we  don't  hear  of  a 
subscription  for  the  benefit  of  his  widow,  nor  of  circuses 
giving  free  exhibitions  to  build  him  a  monument. 

What  full-grown  man  can  sit  down,  put  his  feet  on  the 
stove,  slant  his  chair  back  and  not  become  interested  in 
the  many  beautiful  steel  engravings  on  every  page  of  the 
Almanac.  How  life-like  are  those  goats,  all  headed  one 
way,  heads  down  and  feet  gathered  for  a  "  bunt !"     And 


AND    THE    PICTURES.  305 

right  below  tliem  are  the  Siamese  Twins,  hands  joined  in 
loving  embrace  and  a  glad  smile  of  brotherly  love  cover- 
ing each  face.  Next  below  are  the  lobsters,  wildly  reaching 
out  after  the  tail  of  the  biggest  goat,  and  bound  to  get  it 
or  nobly  perish.  Further  on  is  the  lion,  ferociously  gazing 
at  the  boy  with  the  bow  and  arrow,  who  is  shooting  at  a 
cent  stuck  in  a  stick,  and  hasn't  any  one  around  to  warn 
him.  Then  there  is  a  youth  with  a  harp,  just  setting  out 
to  serenade  his  Sarah  Jane,  and  a  wild  steer  lies  in  wait 
behind  a  horse  barn  to  get  his  horns  under  somebody's 
vest. 

If  you  want  your  children  to  become  statesmen,  train 
them  up  to  familiarize   themselves  with  some  first  class 
Almanac — one  with  a  yellow  cover  and  a  blue  back. 
T 


AN  HOUR  AT  THE  CENTRAL  STATION  COURT. 


said  that  lie  was  a  kind-looking  old  man, 
having  gray  hairs  and  a  face  over  which  a 
smile  spread  itself  as  he  looked  up  at 
at  the  Court. 

"Were  you  drunk?"  asked 
his  Honor. 

*'  Twee  of  drie  geleden,  sloeg 
hij  zijn  kindje,  ten  und  maanden 
cud,"  replied  the  old  man. 

"  What !  what  did  you  say  ?" 
asked  the  Court. 

"  Met  boyenstaande  vraag  ein 
hielden  zich  de  vorige  week  de 
neidenhaaden  de  Engelsche,"  replied  the  prisoner. 
Bijah  began  to  grin. 
The  clerk  began  to  grin. 
The  audience  moved  uneasily. 

"Now  then,"  continued  his  Honor,  "the  charge  is 
drunkenness,  and  I  want  to  hear  what  you  have  to  say 
about  it." 

"  De  tegenwoordigheid  van  afgevaardigden  van  andere 
Christelijke  Vereenigingen,"  answered  the  old  man  in  a 
solemn  voice. 

"  Were  you  drunk  ?"  demanded  the  Court  in  a  louder 
tone. 

306 


HE    GOES    OUT. 


307 


"  Ilij  were!  verleden  ^Nfaandag  tot  twalf  jaren  gevangeis 
straf  verooreeeld,"  answered  the  prisoner,  also  raising  liia 
voice. 

"  Don't  fool  with  this  Court,"  warned  his  Honor. 

"  TVormjoekjes  gebruikt  te  nebben,  terwij  wij  alle  huis- 
gezinncn,  waar  kinderen  zjm,  moeten  aanraden  een  doos 
van  Kimm's  Susan  B.  Anthony!"  replied  the  prisoner, 
throwing  his  arms  around  wildly. 

"  Well,  I  can't  fool  away  any  more  time  on  you,"  said 
the  Court  in  a  tone  of  despair.  "  Dust  out  of  here  and  be 
seen  no  more !" 

And  he  dusted. 

-^IMl!lllllllIIl!flllll[j|[|f(lj,;j[f||I||||j|l|||[!jjl  lllllllllf 


Dust  to  DfsT. 


WHEN  THE  PANSIE8  BLOOM. 

"  This  is  a  case  which  can  be  called,  tried  and  disposed 
of  inside  of  three  minutes,"  remarked  his  Honor  as  Charles 
Taylor  leaned  on  the  railing  and  regarded  him  with  an 
appealing  look. 

"  I  couldn't  get  nothing  to  do,"  replied  the  prisoner. 


308  A    YOUNG    BUD. 

"  I  hear  you  couldn't,  but  if  I  were  a  young  man  nine- 
teen years  old,  in  sound  health,  and  the  fat  on  my  ribs  was 
an  inch  and  a  half  thick,  I'd  find  work  enough  to  pay  for 
my  board,  or  I'd  slide  off  the  wharf  and  make  business 
for  a  coroner." 

"  I've  looked  all  around,"  said  the  prisoner. 
"  Well,  we  won't  argue  the  case.  I  know  that  work  is 
scarce,  but  I  also  know  that  there  are  dozens  of  fat  loafers 
around  this  town  who  wouldn't  turn  a  grindstone  two 
hours  for  a  week's  board.  You  are  charged  with  vagrancy, 
are  guilty,  and  I  mil  give  you  sixty  days. 
That  will  let  you  out  about  the  time  the 
pansies  bloom,  and  if  you  can't  find  work 
then  I'll  send  you  back  for  six  months." 
The  prisoner  shufiled  off  into  the  cor- 
ridor, wiping  a  tear  from  his  nose,  and 
was  so  ugly  that  Bijah  had  to  draw  the 
Them  Nose  and  Tear,  crowbar  at  him  before  he  would  sit  down 
on  the  water  cooler  and  wait  for  the  Maria  to  drive  around. 

''AND   HE  WAS  SO  YOUNG." 

He  was  only  twenty-two,  and  the  bloom  of  youth  on  his 
nose  had  scarcely  been  eaten  into  by  the  rust  of  manhood's 
tribulation.  He  was  found  drunk  on  the  sidewalk,  lying 
on  his  back,  arms  folded  across  his  peaceful  breast,  and  the 
pale,  cold  moon  cast  a  snowy  shadow  across  his  face. 

"  Ever  here  before  ?"  asked  the  Court. 

"ITever." 

"  And  you  feel  powerful  mean  over  this  ?" 

"I  do." 

"  And  you  won't  be  found  in  such  a  situation  again  ?" 

"  Never." 

"  Well,  be  careful  of  your  conduct  in  the  future,  young 
man.     You  are  just  budding  into  manhood  now,  and  if 


A    KITTEN    IN    COURT.  309 

you  are  picked  up  drunk  at  twenty-two,  what  may  not 
happen  to  you  at  forty-four  ?  I  don't  advise  you  to  carry 
an  icicle  around  in  your  pocket,  or  to  refuse  a  prescription 
because  one  of  the  ingredients  is  burnt  brandy,  but  as  a 
general  thing  it  will  be  best  for  you  to  mind  your  own 
business,  let  intoxicating  drinks  alone,  and  pay  your  board 
bill  in  advance.     That  is  all,  sir — there's  the  way  out." 

''S'CATr 
Exclaimed  some  one  in  the  audience  as  the  name  of  James 
Kitten  was  announced. 

His  Honor  rose  up,  looked  around  him,  and  said : 

"  That  remark  mustn't  be  remarked  again." 

Mr.  Kitten  had  also  been  drunk.  He  said  some  one 
drugged  him,  but  it  was  pretty  evident  that  he  took  the 
fluid  in  the  usual  way,  and  that  it  had  no  more  than  the 
usual  effect  on  him.  When  found  by  the  officer  he  was 
hanging  to  a  tree-box  near  the  City  Hall,  and  shouting : 

"  Lucinda,  'fu  don't  open  that  door  I'll  knockyourhead- 
off!" 

"  Mr,  Kitten,  such  conduct  is  unpardonable  in  a  man  of 
your  years,"  said  his  Honor,  "  and  it  will  be  altogether 
more  harmonious  for  you  if  you  keep  away  from  me  here- 
after. I  don't  remember  having  met  you  before,  and  I 
don't  want  to  see  you  a  second  time.  I  can  let  you  off  this 
time,  but  if  your  faded  form  confronts  me  again  within  a 
month,  I'll  make  it  so  lively  for  you  that  sitting  down  on 
a  red-hot  penny  will  be  a  cool  position  compared  to  yours." 

"  Am  I  sent  up  ?"  asked  the  prisoner. 

"  !N"o,  sir — you  are  sent  out,  and  you  can  step  along  as 
soon  as  Bijah  finds  your  hat." 

HE  WASN'T. 
Just  before  the  "  last  man  "  was  called,  a  tall,  red-haired 
woman  wearing  ITo.  7  shoes  and  a  straw  bonnet,  and  her 


310 


THE    WIFE    OF    MCDUFF. 


eyes  showering  out  sparks  of  anger,  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  court,  and  she  asked : 

"Is  Josephus  Andrew  McDuff  in 
here  !" 

Bijah  dodged  into  the  corridor, 
made  inquiries  and  then  answered  in 
the  negative. 

"  Well,  all  I  want  in  this  world  is 
to  get  my  paws  on  him !"  ejaculated 
the  female,  and  she  strode  out,  head 
up,  heels  striking  hard,  and  her  brow 
corrugated  until  it  resembled  the 
grooves  in  a  washboard.  The  boys 
caught  the  cue  and  followed  her 
around  the  corner,  singing  : 


Oh!  the  wife  of  McDufl, 
She's  tall  and  she's  tuff^ 

And  she'll  make  it  rough. 
For  Josephus  McDuff. 

Tuff-ruff. 
Mr.  &  Mrs.  McDufl. 


I 


"  AP-U-L-S ' 


I 


"AP-U-L-Sr 


E  stood  in  the  hall  and  said  so.  After  hearing  his 
ok^  clear,  shrill  voice,  I  had  no  further  doubt  that  he  had 
apples  to  sell.  It  was  a  lazy  afternoon,  and  I  invited 
him  in. 

"  Ap-u-l-s  !"  he  shouted  as  he  stepped  inside  the  door. 

"Apples?  yes;  sit  down  there." 

He  sat  down. 

*'  You  said  you  had  apples  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  How  do  you  make  '  apples '  out  of  one  apple,  and  a 
poor  old  seek-no-further  at  that — an  apple  with  a  worm- 
hole  in  one  side  and  a  bruise  on  the  other  ?" 

"  Want  any  ap-u-l-s  ?"  he  asked  by  way  of  reply. 

"  Yes,  I  do — give  me  three.'' 

He  picked  up  the  solitary  one,  looked  anxiously  around 
the  room,  and  laid  it  on  the  table,  with  the  remark : 

"  Two  for  five  cents." 

I  handed  him  a  nickle  and  asked  for  two  and  a  half  cents 
back. 

He  counted  his  pennies  over  three  or  four  times,  realized 
that  he  had  got  himself  into  a  trap,  and  he  finally  handed 
me  back  the  nickel,  put  his  apple  into  the  basket,  and  rose 
up  to  go.  He  went  into  the  newsroom,  walked  the  whole 
length  of  the  floor,  and  twenty-eight  times  he  said 
311 


312  HE    CAME    AGAIN. 

"  ap-u-l-s  ?"  to  the  compositors.  Some  of  the  men  looked 
with  contempt  on  the  solitary  representative;  some  did 
not  raise  their  eyes  from  the  copy  on  the  case  before  them ; 
some  picked  up  the  apple,  turned  it  round  and  round,  and 
replaced  it  with  a  sigh,  as  if  they  had  hoped  for  better, 
brighter  apples,  and  had  been  grievously  disappointed. 

The  boy  passed  down  into  the  job  room.  The  foreman 
waved  him  away ;  the  feed-boys  tried  to  daub  his  ears  wdth 
ink ;  the  men  working  on  the  Fourth  of  July  posters  told 
him  to  go  hence.  He  descended  to  the  press  room,  fell 
over  a  keg  of  ink,  got  banged  by  one  of  the  presses,  and 
limped  up  stairs,  crept  into  the  local  rooms,  and  announced: 

"  Ap-u-l-s !" 

"  Yes  sir — come  in  and  sit  down  !" 

He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  chair,  as  if  he  did  not 
mean  to  stay  long. 

"  Have  you  apples  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.'' 

"  Give  me  six !" 

He  laid  that  poor,  lone  apple  on  the  table,  coughed  like 
one  in  distress,  and  did  not  try  to  look  me  in  the  face. 

As  I  leaned  back  and  regarded  him  he  picked  up  the 
apple  and  slipped  away.  He  went  out  upon  the  street.  I 
heard  him  calling  and  calling,  and  hours  after,  as  I  passed 
the  post-office,  he  stepped  out  and  inquired : 

"  Ap-u-l-s  ?" 

That  same  seek-no-further  was  still  there — "  only  this 
and  nothing  more." 

The  worm-hole  and  the  bruise  looked  older  and  more 
serious,  but  the  general  condition  of  the  apple  remained 
unchanged. 

I  lifted  it  up  and  looked  at  it  again.  It  had  once  been 
a  fine  apple,  with  transparent  complexion  and  the  proper 
rotundity  which  apple-eaters  love  to  see.     Some  accident 


AND    WAS    UANKRUPT. 


313 


liad  inflicted  the  bruise,  or  some  unkindly  thumb  had 
pressed  against  it  with  that  feeUng  which  causes  men  to 
choke  each  other. 

I  did  not  see  him  next  day,  nor  the  next,  but  on  the 
third  day  he  crept  up  stairs  and  acknowledged  that  specu- 
lation in  fruit  had  bankrupted  him.  The  seek-no-further 
had  died  on  his  hands,  but  yet,  having  some  slight  hope 
left,  he  had  gone  into  sassafras-scented  toilet  soap,  trusting 
that  the  liberal-minded  public  would  give  him  the  prefer- 
ence over  the  boy  with  the  bad  cocoanuts. 


CHIPMUNK.  THE  WYANDOTTE. 


XE  day  a  "Wyandotte  Indian,  bare-headed,  and 
liaving  little  on  except  a  blanket,  came  into 
>the  local  room.  He  was  one  of  the  few- 
members  of  that  tribe  left,  and  bad  a  but 
somewhere  on  the  river,  living  alone  and 
begging  and  hunting  by  turns. 

We  had  just  taken  a  new  man  on  the  staiF — a  long-haired, 
innocent  young  man  from  Xew  England,  who  was  waiting 
for  a  chance  to  go  out  to  Africa  as  a  missionary.  "We  all 
knew  Chipmunk,  the  "Wyandotte,  to  be  a  hardened  old 
loafer,  but  Bank,  the  new  reporter  had  never  seen  an 
Indian  before.  Chipmunk  sat  down,  waiting  for  some  one 
to  shell  out,  and  Bank  slipped  over  to  me,  his  heart  big 
with  sympathy,  and  inquired : 

"  Has  any  effort  ever  been  made  to  enlighten  and  elevate 
these  Indians  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  I  answered,  "  although  I  am 
ashamed  to  acknowledge  it.  That  poor  Indian  there 
knows  nothing  good,  although  living  in  this  enlightened 
age,  because  we  are  too  busy  to  spare  the  time  to  teach 
him.  It  is  some  one's  duty  to  take  him  by  the  hand  and 
look  out  for  his  future  welfare,  but  who  is  it  ?     I  haven't 

the  time,  and " 

"  I  feel  that  it  is  my  duty,"  replied  Bank,  interrupting 
me,  and  I  saw  tears  in  his  eyes. 
314 


BODILY   WELFARE. 


315 


There  was  a  pair  of  stairs  leading  to  a  side  street,  and 
Bank  motioned  for  Chipmunk  to  follow  him  dowm.  The 
Wyandotte  obeyed,  and  I  looked  out  of  the  window  and 
saw  him  take  a  seat  on  the  wood-pile,  while  Bank  sat  down 
on  a  barrel  and  commenced : 

"  My  dear  friend,  what  are  you  li\dng  for  ?" 


"  Gimme  ten  cent!"  replied  Chipmunk,  holding  out  his 
hand. 

"  My  friend,  I  am  not  speaking  of  your  bodily  welfare, 
but  asking  about  your  soul,"  continued  Bank,  "  Do  you 
know  anything  about  Heaven  ?  Did  anyone  ever  talk  to 
you  about  the  land  beyond  the  skies  ?  Has  anyone  ever 
sought  to  instil  goodness  into  your  heart  ?" 

"  Chipmunk  hard  up — want  money,"  replied  the  Indian. 

"  My  dear  friend,  it  grieves  me  to  see  that  you  prefer 
bodily  comfort  to  spiritual  salvation,"  continued  Bank. 
"  Don't  you  know  that  you  have  got  to  die  some  day,  and 
that  it  wall  not  be  well  with  you  unless  you  are  prepared  ? 
I  don't  blame  you,  of  course,  for  you  were  born  a  heathen, 
and  not  one  of  the  thousands  around  you  have  taken 
interest  enough  in  your  future  to  enlighten  your  mind.     It 


316  RAISED    TO    A    QUARTER. 

is  a  burning  shame,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  had  neglected  my 
duty,  although  I  only  arrived  in  Michigan  a  few  days 
ago." 

"Gimme  two  shillin'!"  demanded  Chipmunk,  growing 

ugly. 

We  had  played  a  good  many  tricks  on  him  around  the 
office,  and  although  he  could  speak  and  understand  English 
pretty  well,  Bank's  language  was  too  heavy  for  him,  and  he 
probably  took  it  for  some  new  insult. 

"  Rather  ask  me  for  a  testament  or  a  hymn-book," 
replied  Bank.  "  It  makes  me  tremble  to  think  that  here, 
in  an  old  settled  State,  with  a  dozen  churches  in  sight,  in 
this  age  of  Christian  religion,  I  should  have  come  upon  a 
human  being  knowing  nothing  of  the  great  future — having 
no  care  except  for  to-day — never  learning  that  there  was 
a  hereafter.  Why,  I  can  almost  imagine  myself  in  the 
heart  of  Africa!" 

"  Don't  make  laugh  of  Chipmunk !"  warned  the  Indian, 
looking  mighty  ugly  out  of  his  eyes,  and  hitching  around 
on  the  woodpile  in  a  nervous  manner. 

"My  poor,  dear  benighted  heathen,  do  you  suppose  I 
could  sport  with  your  ignorance  ?"  inquired  Bank.  "  ISTo, 
my  poor  friend,  I  j)ity  you — I  sympathize  with  you — it 
makes  my  heart  bleed  when  I  realize  your  situation. 
Here,  clasp  my  hand,  my  dear  brother,  and  say  that  you 
will  be  my  pupil  hereafter — that  you  will  let  me  guide 
your  footsteps  in  a  new  and  better  road ;  that " 

Some  of  the  other  boys  had  come  in,  and  hearing  us  at 
the  window  Chipmunk  made  up  his  mind  that  we  had  put 
up  a  "  sell "  on  him.  As  Bank  was  speaking,  hand  held 
out,  the  Wyandotte  yelled : 

"  Waugh  !  Whoop  !  Make  fool  of  Injun  !"  and  he  came 
down  upon  Bank  like  a  catamount  on  a  rabbit.  We  hauled 
him  off  as  soon  as  possible,  but  that  young  man  from  New 


BUT    HE    COULDN  T    STAY. 


317 


England  was  a  sad  sight  to  sec.  lie  had  a  l)lack  eye,  a 
bloody  nose,  had  lost  a  handful  of  hair,  and  the  interior  of 
his  watch  was  rolling  around  with  the  sticks  of  wood. 

"  "Whoop !  fight  more — 
lick  ten  men !"  shouted 
the  Indian  as  we  rushed 
him  around,  but  we  were 
too  many  for  him. 

Bank  couldn't  get  over 

it.     We  raised  his  salary 

to  seven  dollars  per  week, 

S^    kept  his  drawer  full   of 

complimentary  tickets  to 

circuses,  minstrel  shows 

^  '  and    lectures,   made   his 

"Wadgh!  Whoop!"  work  casy  and  flattered 

bis  talents,  but  as  soon  as  his  nose  got  well  he  discharged 

himself,  and  I  haven't  heard  of  him  to  this  day. 


LET  US  ALONE. 


A^G  'em! 

I  mean  the  men  who  gather  together  in  convention 
and  make  long-winded  speeches,  and  read  six-column 
addresses,  and  inflict  both  on  the  public  under  the  name 
of  "  Social  Science."  The  Hon.  Tenderheart,  who  has 
made  the  matter  his  study  for  years,  gets  up  and  says  that 
something  must  be  done  to  educate  and  refine  the  home- 
less, outcast  children.  He  has  two  or  three  plans,  but  he 
doesn't  propose  to  pay  out  a  cent  or  to  take  one  of  the 
street  Arabs  into  his  own  family.  He  is  ^\^lling  to  furnish 
plans  and  advance  theories,  and  talk  through  his  nose  and 
wipe  his  weeping  eyes,  and  the  street  Arabs  might  as  well 
be  in  Africa  for  all  it  profits  them. 

Hang  the  man  who  gets  up  and  declares  that  the  Ameri- 
can people  are  being  murdered  by  poorly-ventilated  rooms. 
If  there  is  an  American  in  America  who  doesn't  know 
enough  to  raise  a  window  and  let  foul  air  out,  or  lower  it 
to  prevent  dust  from  driving  in,  the  fool-killer  will  soon 
find  him.  The  great  mass  of  people  are  not  going  to  shiver 
in  their  beds,  or  carry  an  infernal  cold  in  the  head  to  please 
some  old  rhinoceros  who  sleeps  with  his  window  open. 

Hang  the  man  who  is  always  driving  oat-meal  and 
Graham  flour  down  the  public  throat.  If  anybody  likes 
oat-meal  let  him  eat  it,  and  if  anybody  prefers  Graham's 
diet  to  warm  biscuit,  there  is  no  law  to  prevent.  But  give 
the  remainder  of  us  a  rest.  Don't  keep  writing,  and 
818 


DO   YOU    HEAR 


319 


declaring  and  printing  that  oat-meal  will  make  a  statesman 
out  of  a  fool,  or  rednce  a  statesman  to  the  level  of  an  idiot 
if  lie  doesn't  cram  himself  with  it  three  times  per  day. 

Hang  the  man  who  says  that  carpets  hreed  consumption ; 
that  gas  is  unhealthy;  that  people  shouldn't  drink  while 
eating ;  that  stoves  are  killing  us ;  that  people  should  go 
to  bed  at  dark  and  get  up  at  daylight;  that  marble-top 
tables  are  as  bad  as  the  cholera ;  that  our  boots  and  shoes 
and  coats  and  dresses  are  knives  and  daggers  drawing 
blood. 

I  want  to  be  let  alone,  and  I  know  others  who  want  to 
be  let  alone.  If  we  are  galloping  to  the  grave  because  we 
won't  walk  three  miles  before  breakfast,  or  pound  sand- 
bags, or  swing  clubs,  it's  our  own  private  business,  and  our 
widows  will  sooner  secure  our  life  insurance  money. 


A  TRUE  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  DEATH  OF 
CAPTAIN  COOK. 


fWAS  talking  the  other  day  witli  a  grandson  of  one 
of  the  men  who  helped  eat  Captain  Cook,  the  navi- 
gator. History  has  dealt  very  unjustly  with  the  native 
gentlemen  who  sat  down  to  that  feast,  and  I  made  the 
grandson  a  solemn  promise  to  set  the  matter  right. 

This  man  Cook,  as  near  as  I  can  learn,  used  to  keep  a 
hotel  in  London,  and  was  far  from  being  a  famous  naviga- 
tor. When  he  landed  on  the  island  where  his  death 
occurred  he  cocked  his  hat  over  his  left  ear,  squirted 
tobacco  juice  around  in  a  ferocious  manner,  and  put  on 
more  style  than  the  foreman  of  a  hand-engine  at  a  village 
fire.  The  natives  welcomed  him  with  shouts  and  smiles, 
told  him  to  make  himself  at  home  at  the  best  hotel  on  the 
island,  and  all  preparations  were  made  to  render  Mr. 
Cook's  stay  pleasant  and  agreeable.  It  was  planned  to 
hold  an  ice-cream  festival  ;  go  on  a  fishing  excursion ; 
to  have  the  band  out  every  evening ;  to  get  up  a  sack-race 
and  have  a  greased  pole ;  to  go  and  see  the  city  hall  and 
drive  around  the  parks,  and  there  was  no  end  to  the  plans 
of  the  natives  to  do  the  right  thing  by  the  white  strangers. 
But  how  did  Captain  Cook  repay  these  kind  intentions  ? 
He  blustered  around  as  if  he  owned  the  whole  group  of 
islands,  called  the  women  fat  and  the  men  ugly,  scowled 
at  the  children  and  swore  at  the  dogs,  and  the  natives 
couldn't  please  him  no  how. 

320 


DEGRADING    STEVE. 


321 


Tlie  native  King,  a  gentleman  of  culture  named  Stephen 
Hooper,  kept  his  temper  excellently  well  for  a  week,  but 
then  Captain  Cook  began  to  go  a  little  too  heavy.  He 
addressed  the  King  as  "  Steve,"  a  thing  which  no  human 
being  had  ever  dared  do  before,  and  as  this  was  not 
promptly  resented  he  proposed  to  liarness  the  King  to  a 
cart  and  make  liim  draw  yams  down  to  the  vessel.  All 
this  was  for  the  purpose  of  degrading  the  King  in  the  eyes 


of  his  subjects.  Cook  wouldn't  have  cared  two  cents  if 
his  actions  had  run  gold  up  to  1.26,  and  brought  rents 
down  fifty  per  cent.  He  complained  of  the  postal  con- 
veniences ;  of  the  way  the  street  cars  were  managed ;  tried 
to  cut  down  the  fees  of  hackmen,  and  King  Hooper's 
government  would  have  been  knocked  higher  than  a  kite 
if  he  hadn't  adopted  prompt  measures. 

Captain  Cook  was  killed,  but  it  was  done  in  a  genteel, 
courteous  manner,  and  as  gently  as  circumstances  would 
u 


322 


THE    KING  S    BANQUET. 


permit.  When  he  fell,  his  companions  hastened  away, 
jumping  their  bills  without  even  a  promise  to  return  some 
day  and  square  up. 

Then,  when  the  sailors  had  sailed  away,  the  natives 
found  themselves  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of 
fresh  meat  on  their  hands.  The  weather  was  warm,  the 
ice  supply  had  given  out,  and  the  question  arose  whether 
they  should  let  all  that  meat  spoil  or  eat  it.  Times  were 
close,  taxes  high,  and  who  can  blame  them  for  having 
decided  to  bake  the  Captain  and  have  the  good  of  him  ? 

He  was  duly  baked,  and  if  he  could  have  only  realized 
what  a  gorgeous  bread-brown  color  they  got  on  him  he 
wouldn't  have  laid  up  a  hard  thought  against  the  natives. 
King  Hooper  took  advantage  of  the  occasion  to  make  a 
national  banquet,  and  all  his  friends  were  invited  in.  The 
Captain  had  been  baked  whole,  and  he  occupied  the  center 
of  the  table.  The  King  did  the  carving,  and  as  one  called 
out  that  he  w^ould  take  an  ear,  another  a  wing,  another  a 
leg,  and  so  forth,  the  royal  carver  carved  away,  and  not 


a  thing  occurred  to   mar   the   harmony  of  the  evening. 
"When  the  provisions  had  been  disposed  of,  the  glasses 
were  filled  and  the  King  himself  announced  the  toast : 
"  Here's  to  the  man  we  have  eaten  !" 


THOMAS  TOMS,  DECEASED. 


IITKERAL  processions  are  dreary  affairs, 
])iit  I  am  glad  I  took  a  place  in  the  sec- 
ond carriage  after  the  hearse  and  saw 
the  body  of  my  late  friend  Thomas 
Toms  consigned  to  its  last  resting  place. 
Mr.  Toms  was  not  a  fool — he  was  a 
confiding  man. 

Up  to  the  age  of  forty  Mr.  Toms 
was  healthy,  fat,  good-natured  and  jovial.  Various  men 
felt  of  the  fat  on  his  ribs,  looked  into  his  smiling  face,  and 
predicted  that  he  would  live  to  be  one  hundred  years  old, 
What  started  his  downfall  was  reading  a  book  on  diet, 
lie  had  always  been  able  to  sit  down  to  three  square  meals 
per  day,  and  to  get  away  with  beans,  potatoes,  pork,  mut- 
ton, pie,  cake  and  biscuit,  and  he  had  never  known  a  qualm 
of  indigestion.  The  book  said  that  he  must  eat  oat-meal, 
cracked  wheat  and  codfish,  if  he  would  be  healthy,  and 
from  that  day  his  house  was  turned  into  a  hospital.  He 
had  codfish  and  oat-meal  for  breakfast,  codfish  and  cracked 
wheat  for  dinner,  and  codfish  and  Graham  bread  for  sup- 
per. He  gave  up  his  lunch,  neglected  his  cider,  and 
imagined  that  he  was  growing  healthy. 

Then  he  bought  a  book  on  ventilation.     He  read  that  no 
one  should  sleep  in  a  room  without  a  window  open,  and 
323 


324 


HE    READS    OTHER    BOOKS. 


he  went  to  bed  one  night  in  January  with  his  room  prop- 
erly ventilated.  He  got  up  in  the  morning  with  his  throat 
full  of  shingle  nails,  his  nose  blockaded  and  his  eyes  full 
of  blood.  His  wife  felt  even  worse,  and  it  was  four  weeks 
before  sage-tea  and  cough  medicine  had 
any  effect.  He  sat  up  with  his  "vvnfe  one 
night,  and  she  sat  up  with  him  the  next, 
and  by  strict  attention  to  business  they 
were  finally  so  far  restored  to  health  that 
they  could  read  a  work  on  "  The  care  of 
the  body." 

The  book  announced  that  feather  beds 
were  slowly  but  surely  depopulating 
America.  They  were  productive  of  spinal 
complaint,  fever  and  twenty-one  other 
Ventilated.  discascs,  and  Mr.  Toms  felt  his  hair  stand 
up  as  he  remembered  that  he  had  slept  on  feathers  for 
forty  years.  The  feather  bed  came  oif,  and  ^Ir.  Toms  and 
his  wife  reposed  Vn  an  old  straw  bed,  having  straw  pillows 
under  their  heads.  After  a  week  Mrs.  Toms  could  not  get 
out  doors,  and  Mr.  Toms  liad  to  walk  with  a  crutch,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  flew  mad  and  said : 
"  Mrs.  Toms,  I  am  living  with  a  fool !" 
"Mr.  Toms,  so  am  I!"  she  replied,  reaching  under  the 
stove  for  a  flat-iron. 

Mr.  Toms  stood  it  very  well  for  a  week  or  two  longer, 
and  then  got  hold  of  a  book  which  stated  that  every  per- 
son who  cared  to  preserve  the  health  should  take  a  cold 
bath  every  morning.  He  didn't  have  a  bath-room  in  his 
house,  but  he  filled  a  tub,  carried  it  to  the  stable,  and  the 
yellow  sun  of  February  glanced  through  a  knot-hole  and 
fell  upon  his  wrinkled  brow  as  he  got  out  of  his  clothes 
and  stepped  into  the  tub.  He  shivered  and  sighed  and 
groaned  as  the  ice-water  raised  goose-pimples  on  his  legs, 


THE   INFERNAL    IDIOT.  325 

and  he  -vrasn't  fairly  dressed  when  he  fell  down  in  a  con- 
gestive chill,  and  sixteen  of  his  relatives  were  telegraphed 
for. 

It  was  a  month  or  two  before  Mr.  Toms  felt  like  taking 
any  more  steps  to  improve  his  health.  Then  he  read  that 
stoves  were  unhealthy,  and  he  sold  his  and  had  a  fire-place 
put  into  the  sitting-room.  It  had  a  beautiful  roar  to  it, 
especially  during  gusty  weather,  and  Toms  could  sit  down 
and  blister  his  knees  and  freeze  his  back  at  the  same  time. 

Mr.  Toms  walked  a  mile  before  breakfast  to  get  an 
appetite ;  went  to  bed  at  sundown  and  had  the  nightmare 
all  night;  rose  with  the  lark  and  inhaled  all  the  steam 
from  ihe  alley ;  washed  his  feet  with  borax  and  his  head 
with  wintergreen ;  wore  cork  soles  in  his  boots,  and  a 
sponge  in  his  hat;  tried  the  lift  cure  until  he  couldn't 
straighten  his  spinal  column ;  pounded  sand-bags  until  his 
fingers  were  like  corn-stalks,  and  he  died  in  his  chair  while 
trying  the  sun-cure. 


J.  BROWN,  DECEASED. 


tHE  door-bell  rang,  and  as  I  opened  the  door  I  saw  a 
woman  in  black  on  the  steps — a  woman  so  tall  and 
thin  and  solemn-looking  that  I  wondered  if  a  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  would  be  any  inducement  for 
her  to  utter  a  hearty  laugh. 

"  I  want  to  talk  with  you,"  she  whispered,  as  I  stood 
there  holding  the  door. 

"Is  it  about  a  pic-nic — the  heathen — tracts — a  new 
book — a  suftering  family — cruel  husband — disobedient 
son — runaway  daughter,  or  the  police  driving  your  cow  to 
the  jDOund?"  I  inquired. 

"  I  want  you  to  write  a  book  for  me,"  she  sighed,  wiping 
a  tear  from  her  left  eye. 

I  tried  to  induce  her  to  put  it  o&  until  daylight,  telling 
her  that  I  couldn't  possibly  write  a  book  that  night  and 
catch  over  four  hours'  sleep ;  but  she  seemed  so  deter- 
mined, and  her  face  kept  growing  so  solemn,  that  I  opened 
wide  the  door  and  placed  her  a 
chair. 

She  pulled  off  her  black  gloves, 
held  a  crape  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes,  and  sobbed : 

"  He  was  such  a  noble  man  !" 

"  You   are   speaking   of — of — ^yes, 

sncH  A  Noble  Man.        ahem — of  the  latc — the  late " 

'  Of  my  husband,"  she  sighed. 
326 


HAD    TWO    EYES.  327 

"And  jour  husband's  name  was — was ?" 

"Brown — Jeptha  Brown,  although  m  writing  him  up 
you  may  speak  of  him  as  J.  Brown." 

"  J.  Brown,  deceased.  You  want  that  for  tlic  title  of 
the  forthcoming  hiographj',  do  you?" 

"  Well,  tliat  sounds  kind  o'  euphonious  and  soft,  don't 
it?"  she  asked,  brushing  away  another  tear  and  folding 
her  handkerchief. 

"  "Well,  it's  a  fixir  title.  It  isn't  as  romantic  as  '  J.  Brown ; 
or,  the  One-eyed  lianger ;  or  as  taking  as  '  Brown  the 
Brigand;  or,  the  Waif  of  the  Sea.'" 

"  He  had  two  eyes,"  she  solemidy  whispered,  "  and 
though  they  were  sore  most  of  the  time,  we  couldn't  truth- 
fully speak  of  him  as  one-eyed.  And  he  wasn't  a  ranger — 
he  kept  a  wood-yard." 

"  Well,  having  secured  the  title,  you  may  now  go  on 
and  detail  his  eccentricities — narrate  his  victories  and  his 
failures — particularize  his  habits,  hopes  and  ambitions." 

"He  never  gave  me  a  cross  word!"  she  sighed,  after  a 
moment's  thought. 

"  That's  good." 

"  K'ever  but  once,"  she  added.  "  One  day  when  he 
came  home,  and  found  me  cutting  up  one  of  his  shirts  to 
make  a  tail  for  Jacky's  kite,  he  scowled  and  said :  '  Mary 
Jane,  you'd  better  trade  your  brains  off  for  bran !'  We 
lived  together  thirty-eight  long  years,  and  that  was  the 
only  cross  word,  and  I  know  he  repented  of  that  forty 
times  over." 

"  J.  Brown,  deceased — noble  man — kept  a  wood-yard — 
never  gave  his  wife  but  one  cross  word — repented  of  that 
forty  times — well,  go  on,  madam." 

"  lie  was  a  good  provider." 

"  Good  provider — go  on  !" 

"  !N"ever  said  anything  when  my  relatives  came." 


328  she'd  die  first. 

" Relatives  came." 

"  Didn't  find  fault  when  I  was  sick." 

*' When  I  w^as  sick." 

"  Was  kind  to  bis  family." 

" Kind  to  his  family — yes." 

''Well,  that's  about  all,"  she  said,  after  folding  and 
unfolding  her  handkerchief  and  trying  hard  to  recall  other 
matters. 

"  That  will  be  chapter  one,  madam,  and  it  will  read : 
*J.  Brown,  deceased — noble  man — kept  a  wood-yard — 
never  gave  his  wife  but  one  cross  word — repented  of  that 
forty  times — good  provider — never  said  anything  when 
relatives  came — didn't  find  fault — kind  to  his  family — sup- 
posed to  be  in  Heaven." 

"That's  elegant!"  she  whispered,  almost  smiling,  "but 
it  won't  make  a  very  large  book,  will  it  ?" 

"  Madam,  I  am  as  blunt  as  I  am  homely,  and  I  want  to 
ask  you  a  plain  question." 
"You — ^}'0u  may." 

"Well,  now,  instead  of  going  to  the  expense  of  this 
book,  why  don't  you  get  married  again  ?" 

"  Oop  !"  she  shrieked,  throwing  up  her  hands. 
"  Yes,  madam,  why  don't  you  find  another  husband  just 
as  good  as  the  lamented  J.  Brown?" 
"  Me  marry  !"  she  gasped. 
"  Yes,  madam.  You  are  not  an  aged 
person — you  have  traces  of  beauty — you 
have  a  kind  heart — you  could  love." 

"I'd  die  first!"  she  gasped,  giving  me 

a  look  of  horror. 

"Me  Marry!"  "  I  kuow  better,  madam.     J.  Brown 

was  undoubtedly  a  good  man  and  all  that,  but  because  he 

happened  to  die  it  cannot  be  expected  that  you  are  to  wear 

black,  look  solemn,  and  sigh  four  times  a  minute  for  the 


NO,  SHE  wouldn't.  329 

rest  of  jour  life.  No ;  some  man — some  ricli  widower  is 
even  now  sigliing  for  thee." 

"  Is  that  so  ?"  she  wliispered,  bending  forward. 

"  It  is  true,  madam.  If  you  were  gaunt,  homely,  and 
vicious,  or  fat,  freckled,  and  revengeful,  the  world  would 
let  you  gallop  around  in  crapes,  and  say  nothing.  But  as 
it  is — as  you  have  beauty,  intelligence,  and  bashfulness, 
you  are  expected  to  remarry." 

"  What  would  folks  say  ?"  she  asked,  actually  smiling. 

"Say!  why  they  expect  it!  Only  last  night  I  heard  it 
remarked  that  it  was  strange  you  did  not  remarry." 

"  Is  that  so  ?     Well " 

"  I'll  go  on  and  write  the  book  if  you  say  so,  but  how 
much  better  it  would  be  for  you  to  erect  a  nice,  cosy  head- 
stone to  J.  Brown's  memory,  put  on  a  tender  verse  of 
Philadelphia  poetry,  and  then  lay  off  these  crapes  and  let 
some  one  else  love  you." 

"  Well,  you're  a  writer,  and  you've  been  to  Chicago  and 
Toledo,  and  of  course  you  know  better  than  I  do.  I  want 
to  do  what  is  right,  you  know." 

"  Certainly,  madam,  certainly.  You  will  always  have  a 
tender  spot  in  your  heart  for  J.  Brown,  but  when  a  dozen 
hearts  are  sighing  to  love  you  and  be  loved  in  return,  and 
a  dozen  men  are  waiting  for  the  privilege  of  buying  your 
meat  and  corsets  and  bustles  and  potatoes  and  ruffs  and 
saleratus  and  silk  dresses  and  corned  beef,-  you  can't  go 
pegging  around  with  that  solemn  look  on  your  face." 

"  It  does  seem  so,  come  to  think  of  it,"  she  mused. 

"  Of  course  it  does  !  Go  home,  madam — go  home  and 
look  cheerful  and  feel  jolly,  and  some  one  will  soon  seek 
you  out." 

She  smiled  blandly  and  sweetly  as  I  held  the  door  open, 
and  as  she  reached  the  gate  she  remarked  : 

"  Of  course — you — you  won't " 


330  NOT    BY    A    JUGFUL. 

"  Not  a  word,  madam — I'd  be  torn  to  pieces — quartered 
alive  first!" 

She  shook  her  finger  at  me  and  cantered  gayly  down 
the  street. 

It  isn't  likely  that  she  will  ever  marry  again.  The  mel- 
ancholy pleasure  of  standing  beside  a  lost  husband's  grave 
and  being  able  to  say  that  he  has  the  most  stylish-looking 
headstone  in  the  cemetery  cannot  be  ofiset  by  the  joys  and 
pleasures  of  domestic  life. 


MRS.  BRIGGS,  MARTYR. 


Inln  STii  I^C)^'T  expect  to  sec  another  sunrise — not  another 
Hdonc!" 

I  have  heard  Mrs.  Briggs  make  use  of  the  above  expres- 
sion a  hundred  times  or  more,  and  she  isn't  dead  yet.  On 
the  contrary,  she  is  hale  and  hearty,  and  likely  to  live  for 
many  years  to  come. 

Mrs.  Briggs  lives  next  door,  and  we  couldn't  keep  house 
without  her.  She  is  fat  and  Briggs  is  lean.  She  is  a 
martyr  and  he  is  a  philosopher.  They  have  no  children, 
and  if  she  didn't  consider  herself  an  abused  person  their 
domestic  life  would  roll  on  as  smoothly  as  a  log  sailing 
down  a  canal. 

She  came  into  the  house  the  other  day,  dropped  into  a 
chair  with  an  awful  bang,  and  sobbed  out : 

"  Wliy  do  I  live — oh !  why !  K  you  only  knew — if 
you !" 

And  here  her  voice  left  her,  and  she  jammed  her  apron 
into  her  eyes,  weaved  her  body  to  and  fro,  and  a  painful 
pause  ensued. 

"  Here  I'm  working  myself  down  to  a  shadder !"  she 
finally  went  on,  "  while  Briggs  doesn't  seem  to  care 
whether  we  have  a  home  of  our  own  or  go  to  the  poor- 
house  !" 

We  tried  to  cheer  her  up,  and  after  a  while  she  admitted 
that  she  might  possibly  live  a  week,  but  she  put  on  a  posi- 
tive look  as  she  added  : 

331 


332 


WASTED    TO    A    SlIADDER. 


"  If  you  only  knew  half  my  troubles  you  would  wonder 
that  I  don't  run  crazy  and  kill  somebody!" 

If  Briggs  comes  out  to  sit  on  the  stoop  with  me  nnd 
smoke  a  cigar,  we  don't  have  time 
to  get  along  in  politics  further  than 
the  administration  of  James  Bu- 
chanan when  she  heaves  in  sight  and 
exclaims : 

"Diogenes  Lysander  Briggs,  do 
you  know  that  you  haven't  fixed 
that  gate  yet  I" 

He  stops  in  the  midst  of  his  dis- 
cussion of  the  Dred  Scott  decision 
to  say  that  he'll  be  along  pretty  soon, 
but  she  is  not  satisfied  with  that. 
\S^vCr  fPMf '/  I  ^^=$^       "  ^^^'  y^^  •  you'll  come  along,  you 
^^^M//)?i'i  M  ^R^  ^^^^'     You've  said  that  a  thousand 
^^^ilnfi'         n^      times,  and  I  know  just  what  depend- 
As  She  Thinks  She  Is.         Q^^^.Q  ^,r^^    \)q    placed  OU  yOUr  sayiug  ! 

It's  a  shame — a  burning  shame — that  I'm  being  driven 
to  my  grave  by  your  neglect  and  shiftlessness !" 

She  retires  behind  the  corner,  and  he  goes  on  with  his 
argument  as  if  he  had  not  heard  her. 

If  I  drop  into  his  house  to  discuss  the  European  ques- 
tion with  him  she  seems  quite  happy  for  five  or  six  minutes, 
but  then  suddenly  commences  to  wipe  her  eyes,  and  soon 
sobs  out : 

"  I  wish  people  knew  just  what  I  suffer !" 

Briggs  does  not  even  change  countenance  or  drop  a 
word,  and  in  about  one  minute  more  his  wife  remarks : 

"  You  needn't  make  any  fuss  over  me,  but  just  let  the 
neighbors  come  in  and  see  the  corpse,  and  then  bury  me  !" 

He  keeps  right  on  with  his  story,  and  she  finally  jumps 
up  and  exclaims : 


READY    TO    DIE. 


333 


"  Did  you  hear  mc,  Mr,  Briggs  !  Did  you  hoar  me  say 
that  the  rising  sun  will  lind  me  a  corpse — a  hroken-hearted 
corpse !" 

"  Don't  you  feel  well  ?"  he  inquires  with  sudden  interest. 

"  Don't  I  feel  well !     Great  shiners  !  how  can  you  ask 

Buch  a  question !     Here  I  am,  on  the  verge  of  the  grave, 

and  you  pretend  you  can't  see  it !     Oh  !  Diogenes  Lysan- 

der  Briggs,  I'd  hate  to 
stand  in  your  shoes  when 
the  judgment  day  arrives!" 
"  If  you  think  you  need 
'em  I'd  take  some  liver 
pills,  and  as  I  was  saying 
I  think  that  no  European 
nation  is  prepared  to  meet 

the  question ,"  he  goes 

on  in  the  same  even  tone, 
As  She  keally  Is.  and  slic  jumps  out  of  the 

back  door  to  find  some  sympathizing  neighbor. 

Briggs  is  good-natured,  and  perhaps  inclined  to  be  lazy, 
but  if  he  were  otherwise  she'd  kill  him  within  a  week. 
Her  words  roll  off  his  mind  without  leaving  a  foot-print 
behind,  and  he  feels  that  it  his  lot  to  bear  and  forbear. 
Once  she  sent  four  miles  for  him  to  come  and  see  her  die. 
He  was  fishing  in  a  creek,  and  though  there  was  a  splendid 
show  for  him  to  catch  another  bass  by  waiting  half  an 
hour  he  folded  his  line  and  rode  back  with  the  messenger. 
As  he  entered  the  house  she  greeted  him  with : 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  this  morning  I  should  be  a  corpse 
before  night  ?" 

"  Seems  zif  you  did,"  he  mused,  deliberately  drawing  out 

his  knife  and  twist  of  plug,  and  slowly  cutting  off  a  piece. 

"  Yes,  your  poor  suffering  wife  is  going  to  find  rest  at 

last !"  she  went  on.      "  The  world  will  call  it  dropsy  or 


334  BOUND   TO   BE   SORROWFUL. 

liver  complaint  or  something,  but  I  know  and  you  know 
what  has  brought  me  to  this  !" 

He  stood  up  beside  the  fire-place,  hands  crossed  behind 
him,  and  for  a  moment  his  face  expressed  sorrow  and 
and  anxiety.  Then  he  looked  out  of  the  window,  put  on 
his  hat,  and  said  : 

"  I  s'pose  I  ought  to  go  and  put  that  calf  into  the  barn  !" 

"  Caf !  caf !"  she  shrieked,  sitting  up  in  bed — "  is  a  red 
yearling  caf  more  to  you  than  your  dying  wife  ?" 

She  was  doing  her  own  work  next  day,  and  her  weight 
is  constantly  increasing  as  her  years  spin  out,  but  yet  she 
is  a  great  martyr,  and  she  couldn't  be  happy  if  she  had  the 
front  seat  at  a  circus. 


HE  FELT  DOLLAROUS. 


^N  old  cliap  and  liis  wife,  going  East  from  their  home 
in  Iowa  to  visit  friends,  had  to  halt  in  Detroit  on 
account  of  the  wife's  illness.  They  w^ent  to  a  hotel,  and 
for  the  first  day  or  two  the  husband  didn't  complain  of  the 
cost,  but  when  his  wife  grew  worse,  and  a  doctor  was  called 
and  a  nurse  employed,  he  began  to  hang  on  to  the  dollars 
which  were  demanded.  On  the  fifth  day  the  doctor  looked 
serious  and  said  that  the  woman  would  probably  die.  The 
husband  consulted  with  the  hotel  clerk  and  wdth  a  freight 
agent,  and  going  back  to  his  wife  he  leaned  over  her 
and  sobbed: 

"  Oh !  Sarah  Jane  !  you  mustn't  die  here  !" 

"  I  don't  want  to  leave  you,  Philetus,"  she  replied,  "  but 
I  fear  that  my  time  has  come." 

"Don't!  oh!  don't  die  here !"  he  went  on. 

"  If  my  time  has  come  I  must  go,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  if  I  could  only  get  you  back 
home  first  I'd  save  at  least  forty  dollars  on  funeral  expenses, 
and  forty  dollars  don't  grow  on  every  bush !" 
335 


HOW  TO  ACT  IN  CASE  OF  FIRE. 


fHERE  are  very  few  people  who  can  keep  cool  in  case 
tliey  discover  a  fire,  and  this  is  the  reason  why  more 
fires  are  not  put  out  in  their  incipient  stages,  before  any 
great  damage  is  done. 

In  case  you  are  walking  along  the  street  and  discover  a 
chimney  burning  out,  make  up  your  mind  that  the  whole 
house  has  got  to  go  unless  your  own  individual  exertions 
prevent.  Therefore,  jerk  the  gate  off  its  hinges,  kick  the 
front  door  in  on  the  astonished  family  and  yell  "fire!" 
Your  first  yell  needn't  be  louder  than  the  common  Indian 
war-whoop,  but  after  the  first  you  must  exert  yourself  in 

grand  efforts  to  beat  any 
man  in  that  town  who 
ever  yelled  over  a  burn- 
ing chimney.     The  oc- 
cupants may  desire  an 
explanation  as  the  front 
door  falls   in   and   you 
leap  over  it,  and  begin 
to  throw  the  chairs  around.    There 
is  no  set  answer  to  repeat,  but  most 
most  men  manage  to  say : 
"Fire — fire — your  house — get  out — fire — ^hurry — ^blazes! 
fire — hang  it — fire — fire !" 

They  will  generally  accept  the  explanation  without  argu- 
ment, and  you  can  go  ahead  and  rescue  the  contents  of  the 
336 


ABOUT    SAVING   THINGS. 


337 


house.  Always  commence  on  the  parlor  ornaments  first. 
If  you  haven't  time  to  save  anything  but  a  cliromo,  half 
of  a  marble-top  stand,  and  the  head  of  a  piece  of  statuary, 
you  don't  know  how  far  these  things  will  go  toward  set- 
ting the  burned-out  family  to  house-keeping  again.  The 
windows  were  made  to  throw  things  through.  If  you  can 
fling  all  the  ornaments  out,  wrench  the  sofa  to  pieces,  and 
break  the  legs  ofl:'  of  the  chairs,  you  can  consider  you  have 
saved  everything  in  the  parlor  worth  saving.  K  there  is 
a  stove  in  there,  tip  it  over  as 
you  rush  to  save  the  bedding 
and  other  furniture.  Don't 
throw  a  bed  from  the  chamber 
1  window ;  nothing  will  break  a 
feather  bed  all  to  pieces  as 
quick  as  a  fall.  Take  them  on 
your  back  and  carefully  carry 
them  from  two  to  four  blocks 
away  and  deposit  them  gently 
on  a  doorstep. 

But  the  case  is  different  with 
crockery,  looking-glasses  and 
clocks;  you  can  heave  them 
out  on  the  walk  with  perfect 
confidence  that  they  won't  even 
get  a  flaw.  Deal  gently  with 
flat-irons  and  boot-jacks.  Don't 
try  to  save  a  whole  bedstead, 
but  wrench  it  to  pieces,  and 
throw  three  or  four  slats  out. 
Bureaus  are  cumbersome  arti- 
cles to  handle,  and  it's  best  to  divide  them  in  halves  with 
an  axe,  and  throw  down  the  portions  separately. 

I  had  forgotten  to  say  that  it  is  positively  necessary  for 
v 


Handle  'km  Gently. 

and  then  scrab  the  bureau 


338  they'll  remember  you. 

you  to  yell  "fire!"  twice  per  second,  from  the  time  you 
kick  tlie  door  in  until  the  fire  is  out,  or  the  house  burned 
down.  If  you  didn't  do  this,  some  of  the  family  might 
forj^et  that  the  house  was  on  fire  and  make  arrangements 
to  go  visiting,  or  put  on  dried  apples  to  stew,  or  go  to  set- 
ting emptyings. 

An  ordinarily  cool  man  will  clear  a  house  of  all  worth 
saving  in  about  fifteen  minutes,  especially  if  he  has  a  little 
helj).  If  the  house  goes  for  it,  the  family  will  not  fail  to 
remember  that  but  for  you  they  might  have  been  roasted 
alive ;  and  if  the  flames  are  subdued,  they'll  pick  up  the 
looking-glass  frames,  drawer  knobs,  pitcher  handles,  and 
chair  legs,  and  move  back  in  with  hearts  full  of  gratitude 
that  you,  noble  hero,  through  your  coolness  and  self-pos- 
session, saved  all  that  was  worth  saving. 


«M(Q)I-^ 


THE  COLONEL'S  LETTER. 


^f^ 


"^  HE  mail  routes  west  of  Omaha  were  but 
poorly  looked  after  before  the  days  of  the 
Pacilic  railroad,  but  the  few  post-offices  were 
highly  prized  by  miners  and  traders,  enabling 
them  to  hear  from  civilization  at  least  once 
or  twice  per  year. 

We  had  built  up  quite  a  little  town  about 
twenty  miles  from  Denver,  and  it  was  decided 
to  establish  a  post-office  in  a  saloon  and  hire  some  one  to 
bring  and  carry  a  semi-weekly  mail.  We  made  no  appli- 
cation to  the  government  for  a  post-office,  but  were  going 
into  this  arrangement  merely  for  our  own  accommodation. 
Our  letters  coming  from  the  States  were  addressed  to  Den- 
ver, and  those  we  sent  from  "  Paradise  "  bore  the  Denver 
post-mark. 

We  made  up  a  list  of  those  who  would  pay  fifty  cents 
weekly,  collected  the  first  installment  and  hired  a  half- 
breed  to  act  as  mail-carrier.  Everything  worked  all  right, 
and  "  Paradise  "  would  have  been  happy  but  for  a  giant 
miner  called  "  Colonel  Pick."  He  was  down  for  fifty  cents 
per  week  with  the  rest  of  us,  and  when  the  first  mail  came 
in  he  called  and  demanded  a  letter. 

"None  here  for  you.  Colonel,"  answered  the  man  who 
had  assumed  the  duties  of  postmaster. 
339 


340 


EXPLANATION    WANTED. 


The  Colonel  went  away  growling,  and  was  on  hand  next 
mail-day.  Several  letters  were  received  and  distributed, 
and  when  informed  that  there  was  no  letter  for  him  he 
exclaimed : 

"  Didn't  I  pay  my  fifty  cents  with  the  rest  ?  Haven't  I 
as  much  right  to  git  a  letter  as  any  of  'em  ?" 

The  postmaster  endeavored  to  explain  to  him,  but  the 

Colonel  kicked  an 
empty  whisky  barrel 
across  the  room  and 
went  back  to  his  log 
shanty  on  the  hill- 
side. The  third  mail 
came  in  and  he  was 
on  hand,  two  revolv- 
ers in  his  belt  and  a 
large  bowie-knife  run 
down  behind  his  coat- 

FoR  "Paradise."  Collar. 

"  Ary  letter  for  Colonel  Pick  ?"  he  inquired  of  the  post- 
master. 

"  ISTo,  Colonel — nothing  for  you,"  answered  the  man. 

"You  are  a  wolf  and  a  liar!"  shouted  the  Colonel. 
*'  I've  paid  my  money  and  I  want  a  letter !" 

"  But  there  is  none  for  you,"  replied  the  man.  "  I'd  be 
glad  if " 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  !"  roared  the  Colonel.  "  Isn't  this  a 
post-office  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  what's  a  post-ofiice  fur  ?" 

"  To  receive  and  distribute  mail." 

"  Yes,  and  where's  my  mail  ?  What  'd  I  pay  fur  if  I 
hain't  goin'  to  git  any  letters  ?" 


A    BETTER    WAY.  841 

The  postmaster  was  trying  to  explain,  when  the  Colonel 
took  the  whole  mail  in  his  paw  and  walked  off,  saying  that 
no  crowd  of  men  could  humbug  him.  He  wouldn't  give 
the  letters  up,  but  he  had  some  good  traits  about  him,  and 
I  was  sorry  when  "  Paradise  "  turned  out  and  hung  him  to 
a  limb  to  maintain  the  sanctity  of  the  United  States  postal 
rules.  We  might  have  shot  him  through  the  leg,  and  then 
argued  with  and  enlightened  him. 


THE  BALL  AT  WIDOW  MCGEE'S. 


tHE  widow  DeSliay  gave  a  ball.  It  was  a  grand  ball, 
with  four  musicians  seated  on  the  window  sills,  and 
an  American  flag  festooned  across  one  end  of  the  room. 
She  invited  all  the  neighbors  except  the  widow  McGee, 
and  Tomcat  alley  wondered  how  this  new  insult  would  be 
received.     It  was  a  cold  cut.     It  was  a  terrible  slight. 

The  widow  McGee  sat  in  her  parlor  and  looked  out  on 
the  cold  new  moon,  and  the  pile  of  old  oyster  cans,  and 
two  freight  trucks,  and  she  planned.     She  felt  that  she  had 
been  wounded,  and  she  knew  that  she  must  strike  back  if 
she  wanted  to  preserve  the  respect  and  admiration  of  Tom- 
cat alley.     She  planned  for  a  grand  ball — an  affair  which 
should  outshine  the  DeShay  ball  as  emphatically  as  the 
glitter  of  pure  gold  dims  the  lustre  of  an  Arctic  overshoe. 
On  the  third  day  after  that  the  denizens  of  Tomcat  alley, 
Big  Jack  corners  and  Sulky  avenue  were  astonished  and 
gratified  at  being  handed  written  invitations  which  read : 
GRAND   BAWL. 
The  cumpany  Of  yureself  &  laidy  is  Respectubly  invoited  to 
Be  presint  at 
A   GRAND    BAWL, 

To  be  Given  by  the  AVidow  McGee 
Wensday  eve. 

When  Wednesday  evening  arrived  the  "Pilgrim's  Roost" 
was  all  ready  for  guests.     The  widow  McGee  had  three 
American  flags  festooned  on  the  walls,  two  kegs  of  beer  in 
342 


REVENGE !    REVENGE !  o43 

the  slicd,  palm-loaf  fons  for  all  hands,  and  the  corps  of 
musicians  occupied  a  raised  i^hilioim  at  one  end  of  the 
room.  Uncle  Jake  was  thei  e  u  •  li  iiis  fiddle,  to  lead  the 
orchestra ;  Old  Tom  was  there  with  his  bass-viol ;  Cleve- 
land Henry  beat  the  drum ;  Aunt  Betsy  beat  the  cymbals  ; 
baby  Anna  pounded  a  pan;  Honest  Boy  struck  the  tri- 
angle, and  the  widow  herself  sat  down  to  a  rented  piano 
and  played  notes  at  random. 

As  the  guests  were  ready  to  take  the  floor  the  widow 
stepped  forward,  smiled  benignly,  and  remarked  : 

"  I  likes  to  see  everybody  take  comfort,  Chicago  'Ned 
and  Mary  Jane  Filkins  will  lead  oft',  and  we'll  be  happy 

yet." 

The  music  struck  up,  and  Toledo  Infant  clasped  hands 
with  Lena  La  York,  Cincinnati  Sunrise  bowed  to  Maud  St. 
Clair,  and  the  Iron  Duke  smiled  on  Mother  King  and  went 
whirling  around. 

It  was  a  grand  dance.  The  windows  were  open  so  that 
the  widow  DeShay  could  hear  the  sounds  of  merriment, 
and  Tomcat  alley  folks  said  to  Sulk}^  avenue  residents  that 
the  ball  would  be  remembered  by  future  generations. 

Just  as  the  widow  McGee  had  struck  high  "  C  "  with 
her  melodious  voice,  and  while  the  triangle  was  trying  to 
drown  fiddle  and  drum,  in  marched  the  police.  Some  one 
put  the  lights  out,  everybody  yelled,  and  when  a  dead  calm 
fell  upon  the  ball-room  six  countesses,  four  dukes,  and 
three  lords,  the  widow  McGee  and  the  band  of  musicians, 
were  handcuffed  and  ready  to  march  out.  The  place 
which  knew  them  before  didn't  know  them  any  more,  and 
no  sound  broke  the  monotonous  tramp  or  march  but  the 
shrill  voice  of  the  widow  McGee  crying  out ; 

"  'Tis  owin'  to  the  widy  DeShay !" 


THE  SUMMER  VACATION. 


5X^  DIDN'T  want  to  go ;  give  me  credit  for  that.  But, 
.TC:  when  July  came,  butter  melted  in  the  ice-box,  flies 
were  as  thick  as  dust,  vegetation  was  parched  and 
business  dull,  my  wife  began  to  talk  of  the  green  trees, 
cool  country  breezes,  pure  milk,  fresh  butter,  purling 
brooks  and  skipping  lambs,  and  I  agreed  that  the  trip 
would  be  good  for  our  health. 

She  said  it  wouldn't  cost  us  a  dollar  to  get  ready,  and 
then  went  on  and  used  up  eighty-five  dollars. 

Our  house  was  turned  inside  out  for  a  week,  and  reo-u- 
larly  every  night  I  dreamed  of  climbing  trees,  drinking 
barrels  of  milk,  chasing  babbling  brooks  and  ordering 
strawberries  and  cream  by  the  wagon  load. 

Got  away  at  last,  and  only  lost  one  satchel  and  two 
bundles  getting  to  the  train. 

Other  twenty-three  bundles  all  safe. 

Arrived  in  country  at  noon,  and  soon  found  a  quiet 
retreat  with  an  old  lady,  who  took  us  in  through  pity. 

At  $12  per  week. 

It  was  an  ancient  farm-house,  moss  on  the  roof,  roses 
climbing  over  the  door,  and  every  corner  shady  and  cool. 

My  wife  went  into  raptures  over  a  bob-tailed  hen  and  a 
yellow  calf,  ^nd  as  I  stood  and  gazed  at  the  smiling  lawn 
I  agreed  with  her  that  it  was  a  good  thing  to  come  out  into 
the  country  and  gain  seven  pounds  of  flesh  per  week. 
344 


COW-BELL    SERENADE. 


345 


In  the  afternoon  I  went  out  and  rolled  on  the  green 
grass.  Stuck  an  old  rusty  fork  into  my  leg  and  quit  roll- 
ing. Got  out  again  about  sundown  to  see  the  lowing  kine 
come  home.  They  consisted  of  one  hog  and  a  cross-eyed 
lamb,  but  I  don't  know  as  the  old  lady  was  to  blame. 

Got  to  bed  early,  having  i)lanned  to  rise  with  the  lark, 
and  go  out  and  behold  tlie  dewy  meadows  sparkling  in  the 
sun,  and  to  hear  the  joyful  whistle  of  the  merry  plowboy. 


^^^^^^IS 


The  Smiiing  Lawv 

Got  up  at  eleven  o'clock  to  kill  mosquitos. 

Got  up  half  an  hour  later  to  kill  'em  over  again. 

Sixteen  cows,  each  one  with  a  bell  on,  got  in  front  of 
the  house  at  midnight  and  called  upon  us  to  shake  off  the 
shackles  of  peaceful  slumber. 

Shook  'em. 

Arose  at  two  o'clock  to  raise  the  window. 

Arose  half  an  hour  later  to  put  it  down  again. 

Slept  half  an  hour  and  then  got  up  and  made  a  speech 
to  the  mosquitos,  who  received  it  with  quiet  but  earnest 
applause. 

TVhen  morning  came  we  went  forth  in  the  rain  to  see 
the  sparkling  meadows  and  hear  the  plowboy,  but  we  saw 
not — neither  did  we  hear. 

The  old  lady  said  that  the  rain  insured  a  good  day  for 
fishing,  and  I  arranged  to  go  over  to  Lover's  Lake  in  the 


346 


GOES    FISHING,    ETC. 


afternoon  and  catch  a  week's  supply  of  fish.  I  tried  to 
hire  a  horse  and  wagon  to  come  over  to  the  lake  about 
sundown  and  load  up  the  fish,  but  none  were  to  be  had. 

I  found  Lover's  Lake  to  be  a  beautiful  sheet  of  water,, 
with  every  appearance  of  good  fishing,  and  could  hardly 
^^  control  my  impatience  to  begin  the 

work  of  death  against  the  trout. 
^_    _  Finally  begun. 

There  seemed  to  be  a 

great   many  fish  around, 

but   they  had  just  come 

home  from  a  festival  and 

-^  didn't  feel  hungry. 

^^_1^L^      Fished  for  four  hours, 


^=:^- and  then  stopped,  so  as  to 

leave  a   few  fish   for  the 
^^==  farmers  around  there. 
^.      Sat  down  on  the  veran- 
i  dah  after  supper  to  enjoy 
4^5^  the  balmy  twilight.     Had 
^^^   the  company  of  245,362,- 
895  mosquitos,  six  bats, 
one  toad,  a  snake,  and  black  bugs  enough  for  a  mince-pie. 
Went  to  bed  early  and  dreamed  that  I  was  an  apple- 
blossom,  but  hadn't  only  fairly  bloomed  out  before  I  had 
to  get  up  and  drive  a  bat  out  of  the  room. 
Got  up  at  eleven  to  drive  cows  away. 
Got  up  at  midnight  to  "  s'cat "  a  cat. 
At  two  to  fight  mosquitos. 
At  daylight  to  greet  the  rosy  morn. 
When  we  got  home  at  the  end  of  a  week  my  wife  sat 
down  on  the  step  while  I  unlocked  the  door,  and  said  she : 
"  Darling,  I  was  an  idiot." 
And  I  said  :  "  Ditto." 


THE  INDIAN  QUESTION. 


jW^Y  plan  for  solving  tlio  Indian  problem  is  not  the 
ci=3^  oftspring  of  a  moment's  thought.  On  the  contrary, 
I  have  given  it  deep  meditation  and  prolonged  study. 

In  the  first  place,  place  the  Indian  on  a  nice,  clean  board 
about  seven  feet  long,  and  fasten  him  there.  Then  cut 
him  into  three  pieces.  A  cross-cut  saw  is  a  very  gopd  tool 
to  use  for  cutting  an  Indian  up,  but  when  there  is  none 
handy  use  a  hand  or  buck-saw.     I  saw  'em  in  two  at  the 


points  shown  in  the  above  cut.  A  man  who  has  any  ambi- 
tion to  push  work  will  saw  up  eighteen  Indians  per  day 
and  make  a  good  job  in  every  case. 

Then  carefully  rinse  the  pieces  in  a  barrel,  taking  care 
to  pick  out  any  saw-teeth  which  may  have  broken  off.  If 
the  washing  process  is  not  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  respon- 
sible person  half  of  a  good-sized  Indian  may  be  wasted  by 
improper  handling. 

The  ground  should  have  been  previously  prepared  by 
cross-plowing,  dragging  and  manuring.  A  rich,  deep  loam 
is  preferable.  Indians  cannot  be  planted  by  machinery, 
347 


348 


AN    AUGUST    ASSEMBLY. 


but  the  modus  operandi  is  for  one  to  go  ahead  with  a  spade 
and  make  the  excavation,  another  follow  with  the  meat, 
and  the  third  to  drop  copies  of  "  Hiawatha  "  in  with  the 
seed  and  cover  all.  Plant  in  June,  in  the  full  of  the  moon. 
As  soon  as  the  plants  begin  to  sprout  plow  between  the 
rows  with  a  light  plow,  and  then  go  through  with  a  hoe 
and  heap  up  dirt  around  each  hill  in  order  to  retain  the 


moisture.  But  little  dependence  can  be  placed  on  the  first 
crop,  and  many  planters  go  over  the  field  with  a  mowing 
machine  in  August  and  clear  the  ground,  leaving  the  roots 
to  start  again  in  the  spring.  If  the  crop  is  allowed  to 
mature,  gather  just  before  the  first  frosts  and  run  'em 
through  a  threshing  machine. 


AN  HOUR  AT  THE  CENTRAL  STATION  COURT. 


can  sympatliize  witli  you,"  said  Bijali,  speaking  to 
his  Honor,  "  for  I've  been  there.  The  wonien 
ahvays  tear  and  rear  and  pitch  when  spring  comes,  and 
you  ma}-  jaw  and  jaw,  yet  you  can't  stop  'em.  I  know  just 
how  your  house  is.  The  stoves  are  down,  straw  all  over, 
fresh  paint  on  the  doors,  a  whitewasher  daubing  away, 
children  playing  horse  ^^^th  the  looking-glass,  and  I  pre- 
sume to  say  that  you  ate  your  breakfast  this  morning  on 
the  bottom  of  the  stove-boiler  and  drank  your  coftee  out 
of  the  mustard  bottle." 

His  Honor  heaved  a  deep  sigh  as  he  looked  from  the 
dent  in  his  hat  to  the  hurts  on  his  knuckles,  and  Bijah 
continued : 

"  It  isn't  likely  that  I  shall  ever  marry  again,  but  if  I  do, 
and  my  wife  cleans  house  oftener  than  once  in  five  years, 
I'll  leave  her — yes,  leave  her,  even  if  it's  in  the  dead  of 
■svinter  and  potatoes  are  $50  per  cord  and  wood  is  $2 
apiece  !" 

THAT  BOY. 

"  This  boy's  been  breakin'  winders,"  announced  Bijah 
as  he  handed  out  a  lad  whose  nose  had  enough  dirt  on  it 
to  start  a  corn-field,  and  whose  bare  legs  could  be  seen  in 
half  a  dozen  places  through  sad  rents  in  his  trousers. 

"  That's  an  awful  charge,  bub,"  remarked  the  Court, 
putting  on  a  severe  look. 

349 


350 


A   SOLEMN    PKOMISE. 


"I  never  went  for  to  do  it!"  replied  the  boy,  a  sob  in 
bis  throat. 

"  But  the  deed  was  done,  and  it  is  my  duty  to  inflict  the 
punishment — such  punishment  as  will  be  a  solemn  warn- 
ing to  all  other  boys  within  two  hundred  miles  of  Detroit." 
"I  didn't  mean  to,  you  bet  I  didn't!"  sobbed  the  boy; 
"  went  to  throw  like  that — and  it  slipped  like  that — and 
boo-hoo-hoo  the  window !" 

"  What  an  awful  thing  it  is  to  see  one  so  young  charged 
with  such  a  crime,"  continued  the  Court  after  a  long  pause. 
"And  yet  I  hardly  want  to  sentence  you  to  the  gallows." 
"  Oh !  mister !"  wailed  the  rat,  drawing 
up  his  bare  foot  and  rubbing  his  other  leg 
with  it,  "  lemnie  off  this  time — this  one 
time  —  never  throw  another  stun — 
never  sass  anybody — never — oh !  lem- 
me  ofl:'!" 

"  I  might  probably  do  it,  but  if  I 
do  I  shall  carry  your  name  in  my 
wallet,  and  the  very  first  time  I  liear 
of  your  cutting  up  I  shall  send  eight 
policemen  to  capture  you.  Be  care- 
ful ni}'  son — be  very  circumspect  in 
all  your  future  actions,  for  you  are 
^  resting  in  the  shadow  of  the  gallows, 
:^^^  as  it  were." 

"  I  will — I  will — I  won't  even  throw 
at  a  goat  no  more !"  exclaimed  the  lad,  and  Bijah  let  him 
out  of  the  side  door. 


''KINDER  LOOEIN'r 
"  Do  you  answer  to  the  name  of  C.  Merrifield  Scott  ?" 
inquired  the  Court  as  Bijah  pushed  out  another. 
"  Yaas." 


LOOKIN'    AROUND. 


351 


He  was  a  young  man  of  four-and-twenty,  and  the  "  duds  " 
on  his  back  weren't  enough  in  bulk  to  make  a  good-sized 
mop.  His  hair  was  down  to  his  eyes,  there  was  coal-dust 
and  dirt  all  over  him,  and  he  moved  around  with  slow  and 
solemn  step. 

"  Well,  sir,"  resumed  the  Court,  "  you  are  charged  with 
vagrancy.  The  warrant  says  you  have  no  home,  no  occu- 
pation, and  that  you  couldn't  buy  a  lemon  if  they  sold  'em 
at  a  cent  a  million.  Straighten  up,  look  me  in  the  eye,  and 
give  me  your  candid  opinion  about  it." 

"  Thar'  hain't  no  work,"  drawled  the  prisoner. 
"  Have  you  sought  for  work  ?" 
"Yaas." 
"  Where  ?" 

"  Waal,  I've  been  kinder  lookin'  all  around  town." 
"  And  your  efforts  have  not  been  crowned  with  the  suc- 
cessfulness  of  success  ?" 
"  Kaw." 

"  Mr.  Scott,  continued  his  Honor,  as  he  fastened  his 
teeth  into  an  apple  and  drew  a  whole 
side  away  at  once,  "  suppose  that  Daniel 
Boone  had  kinder  looked  around  in  his 
young  days — where  would  Kentucky 
be  now  ?" 

"  I  dunno,"  sighed  the  prisoner. 
"  Suppose,  Mr.  Scott,  that  Storey,  of 
the  Chicago  Times,  or  Sam  Bowles,  of 
the  Springfield  Republican,  or  Dana,  of  the  New  York  Sun, 
had  spent  their  early  days  in  sitting  on  a  hydrant  and 
watching  the  operations  of  a  pile-driver — would  they  ever 
have  had  half  a  dozen  libel  suits  at  once,  and  been  able  to 
pay  a  coal  bill  on  sight  ?" 

"  I  tell  you  work  is  mighty  skerce !"  exclaimed  the  pris- 
oner, seeming  to  be  annoyed  at  the  questioning. 


352  NOTHING    IN    SPIRITS. 

"Well,  I'll  put  you  where  you'll  have  a  steady  job  for 
six  months.  I  make  your  sentence  for  that  tmie,  and  if 
they  are  an  economical  set  there  they  won't  try  to  wash 
you  up,  but  will  just  take  your  hide  off  and  raise  a  new 
man." 

A   MEDIUM. 

A  colored  woman  named  Crosby  sailed  out  and  spite- 
fully remarked  : 

"  I  demand  my  discharge." 

"  This  isn't  the  office  where  they  sell  demands,"  replied 
the  Court. 

"  But  I  want  to  go." 

"  Well,  we'll  both  be  ready  to  go  directly.     I  understand 
that  you  are  a  medium — tell  for- 
tunes, see  spirits,  and  so  forth  ?" 

"  De  same." 

"  And  I  further  understand  that 
you  struck  another  col- 
ored woman  with  a  poker, 
kicked  in  a  door,  and 
raised  Cain  over  a  whole 
neighborhood. " 

"  Nebber  did,  sah." 

"  But  here  are  two  offi- 
cers and  three  witnesses." 

"  Dey  is  liars,  sah !" 

"  Well,  they  may  be, 
but  I'll  take  the  chances. 
Has  any  spirit  whispered 
to  you  that  I'm  going  to  send  you  up  for  thirty  days  ?" 

"ITo,  sah." 

"  That  shows  what  dependence  you  can  put  on  spirits 
Take  her  away." 


AND    THE   BOYS    SANG. 


353 


"  I'll  holler !"  she  said,  clutching  the  railing. 
"  You  mean  that  you  will  scream  ?" 
"  Yes,  sah." 
"  And  raise  a  row  ?" 
"  Yes,  sah." 

"  Well  you  just  try  it  on,  and  if  I  don't  put  a  sticking 
plaster  over  your  mouth  I'm  no  Court  I" 
She  looked. 
He  looked. 

And  she  didn't  dare  do  it. 
When  the  Maria  rolled  away  the  boys  sang : 

"We've  traveled  this  wide  world  all  over, 
And  had  piles  of  sorrow  and  sport; 
But  we  never  laid  e.yes  on  a  human 
"Who'd  successfully  bluff  this  'ore  court." 


JEEMS. 


fuST  like  a  boy,  he  had  been  playing 
}  around  all  the  morning.  Other  boys 
were  getting  ready  for  Sunday  school, 
and  had  their  hair  combed  down 
behind  their  ears  and  a  religious  look 
^  in  their  eyes,  while  this  boy  was  draw- 
E  ing  a  cart  up  and  down  the  walk  and 
encouraging  peace-loving  dogs  to  as- 
sault each  other  and  still  further  disturb  the  harmony  of 
the  pleasant  morning.  At  length  his  mother  walked  down 
to  the  gate,  caught  sight  of  him  half  a  block  away,  and 
she  shouted : 

"  Young  m-a-n !" 

He  rose  up  from  his  seat  on  the  walk  and  brushed  away 
at  his  pants  as  he  turned  his  eyes  toward  her. 

"Young   man,   you'd    better   stir   your   stumps!"   she 
shouted. 

He  stirred  them.      Traveling  half  the   distance  which 
separated  them,  he  halted  and  inquired : 
"  What  yer  want  ?" 

"  What  do  I  want  ?"  she  screeched ;  "  I  want  you .'" 
"  I'm  here,  hain't  I  ?" 

"  Yes,  you  are  out  here,  cantering  around,  and  yelling 
and  howling  on  the  Lord's  day.     It's  a  wonder  to  me  that 
Providence  hasn't  put  some  great  affliction  on  you !" 
354 


BOUND    TO    DO    IT.  355 

"  Biles  ?*'  he  queried. 

"Biles!     Wiiss  than  biles!     ISTow  you  come  in  here!" 

"  What  fur  ?" 

"  Come  in  here  and  get  ready  for  Sunday  school !" 

"Ihateter." 

*'  Come  here,  young  man  !" 

He  slowly  approached  her,  and  as  he  came  within  reach- 
ing distance  she  seized  him  by  the  hair,  shook  him  right 
and  left,  and  remarked  : 

"  Hate  to,  do  you  !  "Want  to  be  a  heathen,  eh  !  Don't 
love  the  Lord,  eh!" 

"  Yas — oh  ! — oh,  goll !"  he  yelled. 

"  Well,  I  thought  you  did !  'Sow  stump  into  the  house 
and  get  ready  for  Sunday  school.  I've  been  thinking  over 
your  ease  lately,  and  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  lick  you 
to  death  and  hang  your  hide  on  the  fence  if  you  don't  get 
religion  and  be  somebody  !" 

And  she  hauled  Jeems  into  the  house,  gave  him  a  push 
through  the  hall,  and  exclaimed : 

"  I  don't  care  for  the  neighbors  !  It's  my  duty  to  save 
you  from  fire  and  brimstone,  and  I'll  do  it  if  I  have  to 
break  every  bone  in  your  body  !" 


SOME  BALD-HEADED  MEN. 


fT  used  to  make  my  mouth  water  to  sit  and  look  down 
upon  Mr.  Garrison's  bald  head.  It  was  as  smooth 
as  a  book-canvasser's  speech,  shone  like  a  new  britan- 
nia  tea-pot,  and  the  little  veins  could  be  traced  like  water- 
courses on  a  big  map  of  the  United  States. 

Every  bald-headed  man  has  his  forte.  Mr.  Garrison's 
forte  was  in  packing  a  ward  caucus.  It  would  have  filled 
your  soul  with  joy  to  see  him  drop  in  on  a  man  who  wanted 
to  be  a  delegate.     Mr.  Garrison  had  his  slate  made  up,  and 

it  was  his  business  to  get 
all  other  aspirants  out  of 
the  way.  After  wringing 
the  man's  hand  until  the 
bones  cracked  he  would 
speak  about  the  weather, 
the  crop  prospects,  the 
death  of  the  last  old  pio- 
neer, and  would  suddenly 
inquire : 

"Oh,   by  the   way,   do 
you  want  to  be  a  delegate 
^^-  to  the  city  convention  ?" 

GARRISON'S  Head.  rpj^^    ^^^^  WOuld   faintly 

admit  that  such  was  the  case,  as  he  wanted  a  public  sewer 
in  the  upper  end  of  the  ward. 
356 


AND    MR.    nUMrilREY. 


357 


"Egad!  good!"  Garrison  would  exclaim.  "I've  just 
fixed  for  that !  You'll  have  a  sewer  there  in  less  than  a 
month  !  Just  keep  right  on  attending  to  your  daily  work, 
and  I'll  fix  the  sewer  business.  You  have  no  time  to  fool 
away  with  politics — you  are  too  honest,  too  conscientious 
for  a  politician." 

The  would-be  delegate  had  to  wilt,  and  Garrison's  slate 
was  left  without  a  scratch.  I  happened  to  be  around  when 
he  M'as  thrown  from  his  buggy  and  fatally  injured.  His 
mind  wandered  as  the  coroner  bent  over  him,  and  he 
whispered  : 

"  Vote  the  straight  ticket,  and  beware  of  canards  set 
afloat  by  the  opposition !" 


Part  of  the  Programme. 

Mr.  Humphrey  had  a  head  which  any  boy  would  have 
willingly  given  a  jack-knife  to  look  at,  and  Mr.  Humphrey's 
forte  was  en fn-cing  family  discipline.  It  isn't  every  lather 
that  can  make  nine  children  stand  around  the  house  as 
children  should,  but  Mr.  Humphrey  could,  and  he  never 
used   the   rod.      He  had   a   regular   programme,    which 


858  AND   THEN    KNOX. 

covered  all  emergencies.  If  Henry  and  John  had  a  fight, 
Henry  was  headed  up  in  a  barrel  and  rolled  around  the 
woodshed,  and  John  was  hung  upon  a  hook  to  meditate. 
K  Augustus  was  "  sassy  "  he  was  made  to  sit  on  the  picket 
fence  for  a  certain  length  of  time,  and  if  Jane  scorched  the 
meat  her  teeth  were  rubbed  with  tar  until  she  was  a  whole 
week  getting  her  natural  taste  again. 

I  was  in  there  one  day  when  Mr.  Humphrey  was  help- 
less with  a  broken  leg.  The  children  had  taken  advantage 
of  the  occasion,  and  he  asked  me  as  a  special  favor  to  bar- 
rel up  John  ;  hang  William  on  the  hook ;  tie  Susan  under 
the  penstock ;  make  Anthony  sit  on  a  lump  of  ice ;  crook 
Charles  over  the  saw-horse ;  fill  Amanda's  mouth  with 
cotton,  and  bend  "Washington  around  an  apple  tree  until 
he  formed  an  unbroken  circle. 

Mr.  Knox  was  bald-headed,  and  Mr.  Knox's  forte  was  his 
dignity  and  bearing.  If  a  beggar  rang  his  door-bell  and 
asked  for  cash  or  old  clothes  Mr.  Knox  would  swell  out, 
put  on  the  look  of  the  big  lion  in  a  menagerie,  and  inquire : 

"  Sir !  sir !  sir !  do  you  know  who  I  am,  sir !" 

Then  he  would  swell  some  more,  brush  his  hair  up, 
cough  loudly,  and  continue  : 

"  Sir  !  you  must  have  made  a  mistake,  sir !" 

The  beggar  would  be  only  too  glad  to  get  away,  and  Mr. 
Knox  would  go  in  and  boss  his  family  around.  He  had 
his  wife  and  children  as  scared  of  him  as  rabbits.  When 
one  of  the  children's  toes  were  out  the  wife  would  say  : 

"  J.  M.  Knox,  Esquire,  your  son  is  in  need  of  a  new  pair 
of  shoes,  and  should  you  deign  to  purchase  them,  you  will 
earn  the  everlasting  gratitude  of  one  who  is  not  worthy  to 
touch  the  hem  of  your  garment." 

Canterbury  was  right  the  other  way,  though  his  head 
had  the  same  appearance  of  oiled  paper.  His  forte  was 
his  politeness  and  his  retiring  disposition.     He  fell  over- 


THE    xMODEST    CANTERBURY. 


359 


board  once  while  riding  on  a  steamboat,  and  long  before 
the  small  boat  picked  him  up  he  called  out : 

"  Gentlemen,  believe  me,  I'm  extremely  sorry  that  this 
thing  has  occurred,  and  I  promise  you  that  it  shall  not  be 
repeated !" 

When  he  was  once  called  on  to  make  a  public  speech  he 
fainted  away  and  fell  over  a  chair,  and  as  soon  as  recover- 
ing consciousness  he  humbly  apologized  to  the  chair  and 
promised  better  conduct  for  the  future. 


The  Modest  Canterbury. 

When  he  was  dying  and  they  asked  him  if  he  had  any 
choice  of  pall-bearers  he  replied  that  they  had  better  hold 
the  funeral  after  dark,  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  any  one's 
working  hours.  If  he  went  to  Heaven  I  presume  he 
crowded  himself  into  a  corner  and  held  his  boots  in  his 
lap,  so  as  not  to  be  in  any  one's  way. 


THE  LAST  COACH. 


'HERE  will  come  a  day  when  the  old  vehicle 
will  roll  into  the  village  for  the  last)  time. 
The  inn-keejDer  will  stand  on  the  verandah  to 
welcome  the  passengers,  and  the  village  boys 
will  leave  kites,  marbles  and  hoops  to  gather 
in  a  circle  around  the  big-bodied  vehicle  and 
gaze  timidly  at  the  strangers  who  leave  it. 
The  driver  will  have  a  tear  in  his  eye  as  he 
leaves  the  box  with  the  knowledge  that  he  is  never  to 
mount  it  again,  and  the  passengers,  no  matter  how  thick 
the  dust  on  their  garments,  or  how  rudely  they  have  been 
jolted,  will  heave  a  sigh  of  regret  as  they  step  down 
and  catch  sight  of  the  passenger  coaches  standing  ready  to 
usurp  the  rights  and  privileges  of  the  old  vehicle  which 
has  safely  carried  its  thousands. 

Up  hill  and  down — over  bridges — around  the  turns  in 
the  highway — cold,  heat,  rain  or  shine,  and  at  last  steam 
has  won  the  race,  and  the  old  coach  goes  under  the  tavern 
shed  to  decay  and  fall  to  pieces.  The  faithful  horses  find 
other  work,  the  driver  is  lost  in  the  busy  throng,  and  only 
the  remembrance  is  left. 

The  world  is  pushing  these  old  things  back  to  make 
room  for  new  ones,  and  the  new  ones  are  the  best.     Yet, 
the  boy  who  looked  up  from  the  town  pump  with  admiring 
360 


I 


TIME  S    DUST. 


361 


gaze  at  the  dignified  master  of  a  coach  and  four,  whose 
whip-lash  could  pick  a  fly  off  the  ear  of  either  leader,  and 
whose  word  on  law,  politics  or  finance  was  never  ques- 
tioned, even  by  the  talented  town  constable — this  boy  has 
a  right  to  feel  a  bit  sad,  as  a  man,  to  see  the  dust  of  Time 
settling  thickly  upon  the  memories  of  childhood. 


MR.  LEON  ST.  JOHNS 


.ISTE  day  when  a  dozen  of  us  were  gathered  at  the 
-c5s^  Colonel's  ranch,  on  what  was  then  called  "  The  Trail 
of  Despair,"  N'evada,  the  stage  halted  to  drop  a  passenger. 
"We  lived  in  tents  and  shanties,  wore  a  shirt  for  six  weeks 
at  a  time,  lived  on  bean  soup  and  "  salt  horse,"  and  as 
Quincy  Jack  remarked :  "  We  couldn't  chaw  grammar  for 
shucks." 


The  passenger  was  dressed  to  kill,  carried  a  cane  and 
smoked  a  cigar,  had  on  yellow  kids  and  fine  boots,  and  the 
men  regarded  him  with  more  amazement  than  they  would 
have  displayed  had  a  dozen  elephants  appeared  on  the  hill. 

As  he  entered  the  hotel,  so  called,  which  was  merely  a 
362 


AVORSE    AND    WORSE.  3G3 

long,  low  building,  he  looked  from  one  miner  to  another 
and  finally  asked : 

"  Gentlemen,  where  is  the  landlord  ?" 

"  Gcntlemm  /"  .screamed  an  old  miner  named  "  Oxalic 
Acid,"  springing  to  his  feet. 

"  Gentlemen  !"  echoed  "  Old  Sorrow,"  whirling  around 
in  his  chair. 

"  GEj^TLEMEI^  !"  shrieked  "  Turkey  Bob,"  putting  on 
a  look  of  awful  amazement. 

The  stranger  didn't  seem  to  know  what  to  make  of  such 
a  greeting,  but  he  continued  : 

"  Beg  pardon,  but  I  desire  to  tarry  here  and  refresh  the 
inner  man." 

"  Desire .'"  yelled  Jack  Lawrence  from  behind  the  stove. 

"  Refresh  !"  screamed  the  old  man  Davis  from  behind 
a  table. 

"  THE  IOTsT:R  MAI^  !"  squeaked  little  hump-backed 
Bob,  raising  his  hands  in  horror. 

There  was  a  long  pause. 

The  stranger  began  pulling  at  his  kids,  and  said  : 

"  Really,  this  is  incomprehensible." 

The  word  "  incomprehensible  "  struck  every  man  with 
the  force  of  a  cannon  ball.  Big  Blue  Bottle,  the  oldest 
miner  on  the  claim,  fairly  turned  pale,  and  "  Sal's  Brother," 
another  old  digger,  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  whispered 
that  he  wouldn't  live  three  weeks. 

You  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop. 

Then,  with  an  awful  look  on  his  face,  Big  Blue  Bottle 
stepped  forward  and  said,  almost  in  a  whisper : 

"  Stranger,  who  be  you  ?" 

"  I'm  a  traveler,  and  I  had  intended  to  halt  here  and 
secure  refreshments." 

''Refreshments!  hear  that!"  whispered  Sandy  Sam  to 
old  Johnson. 


164: 


DEAD    SILENCE. 


'Refreshments!' 


"  Refreshments  !"  echoed  "  Sal's  Brother,"  wiping  his 
eyes  as  if  there  was  smoke  between  him  and  the  stranger. 
"  Isn't  this  a  ranch  ?"  demanded  the 
stranger  as  he  looked  around.  "  It 
surpasses  my  comprehension  that  you 
maintain  such  an  attitude  to  one  in 
search  of  the  sustenance  of  life." 

That  speech  floored  the  men.     Old 
Blue  Bottle  turned  as  white  as  snow 
and  gasped  out : 
"  Sur — sur — surpashus  !" 

"Attitood!"   whispered    the   Deacon,   sliding    off   the 
bench, 

"  Sus — sus — suste — te !"  stammered  an  old  Califor- 

nian,  dropping  the  plug  of 
tobacco  from  his  hand. 
There  was  silence. 
"Stranger!"  commenced 
Big  Blue  Bottle  in  a  hoarse 
voice,  "  what  mought  be  your 
name  ?"  Il 

"  My   name  ?^'    replied    the 
young  man,  taking  a  whiff  at    f 
his  cigar — "  my  name  is  Leon  \ 
St.  Johns." 

"  W-HAT  !"  screamed  the  old 
man. 

"  Leon  St.  Johns,"  repeated   the   stranger,  eyeing   his 
questioner. 

Dead  silence  again. 

"  Stranger,  how  are  you  heeled  ?"  finally  asked  the  old 
man. 

"  How— what  ?" 

"  Have  you  got  any  weepon  ?" 


ON    THE    LEVEL. 


S6L 


"  Yes — a  revolver." 

"And  you'll  shoot  at  mc — five  paces — count  one  and 
commence  iii-ing!" 

"  N-no — I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,"  replied  the  stranger. 

"  It's  eleven  miles  down  to  Rogers' — plain  trail — git  or 
fight !"  whispered  the  old  man  as  he  hauled  his  revolver 
around. 

"  What — what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  don't  mean  nothin',  stranger,"  solemnly  replied  old 
Blue  Bottle,  "  but  if  them  big  words  and  that  name  o' 
yours  don't  dig  out  for  Rogers'  in  ten  ticks  of  the  watch 
I  shell  commence  shootin'  at  clus  range  and  keep  'er  up 
till  the  powder  gives  out !" 

The  traveler  made  for  the  door,  and  the  last  we  saw  of 
him  he  was  wrestling  with  the  mud  on  the  Daniel  Webster 
Level. 


.^:|^ 


THAT  EMERSON  BOY. 


I  ORE  than  one  will  grieve  to  learn  that 
the  Emerson  boy  is  dead,  and  that  there 
isn't  any  one  around  that  house  now  to 
make  fun.  He  was  a  cheerful,  lively 
boy,  and  he  did  his  best  to  make  the 
household  put  on  the  mantle  of  joyful- 
ness.  Emerson  often  remarked  that 
Bob  didn't  seem  to  ever  sit  down  and 
think  of  the  grave  and  death,  and  he  probably  never  did. 
E"o,  Bob  wasn't  of  that  make.  He  wanted  to  have  fun, 
and  if  the  coroner  should  have  his  body  exhumed  to-day 
I  have  no  doubt  that  certain  portions  of  it  would  be  found 
calloused,  where  the  press-board  used  to  fall.  Both  his  ears 
were  nearly  worn  off"  by  being  cufted  so  much,  and  it  took 
a  whole  row  of  currant  bushes  to  furnish  whips  to  dust  his 
jacket  for  one  summer. 

Emerson  didn't  know  what  fun  was  until  Bob  was  eight 
years  old.  Then  the  boy  began  to  launch  out.  He  would 
bore  gimlet-holes  in  the  bottom  of  the  water  pail,  put 
cartridges  in  the  coal  stove,  unscrew  the  door-knobs,  fill 
the  kerosene  can  with  water,  and  a  good  thrashing  didn't 
burden  his  mind  over  five  minutes.  Sometimes  his  father 
would  take  him  by  the  hair  and  yank  him  up  to  the  sofa 
and  sit  down  and  ask : 

"  Robert  Parathon  Emerson,  what  in  blazes  ails  ye  ?" 
366 


THE    PESKY   RATS. 


367 


"  It's  the  yallcr  jaunders,  I  guess,"  Bob  would  meekly 
reply. 

"  Robert,  don't  you  want  to  be  an  angel  ?"  the  old  man 
would  continue. 

"  And  have  wmgs  ?" 
"  Yes,  my  son." 
"  And  fly  higher'n  a  kite  ?" 
"Yes." 

"  And  fight  hawks  ?" 
"  Y-e-8,  I  guess  so." 

"  Bet  your  beef  I  would — whoop  !  bully  for  the  angels !" 
"  That's  sacrilege,  that  is  !"  the  old  man  would  remark, 
and  he  would  jerk  Bob's  hair  some  more  and  declare  that 
the  young  rascal  was  bound  for  the  gallows.  After  lying 
under  the  pear  tree  for  six  minutes  Bob  would  recover 
from  liis  sadness  and  go  over  to  the  barn  and  run  the  pitch- 
fork through  the  straw-cutter,  harness  up  the  cow  and  stick 
pins  into  the  family  horse. 

One  night  he  brought  home  a  wolf-trap  and  set  it  in  the 
middle  of  the  woodshed  floor  to  catch  a  rat.  lie  chuckled 
a  good  deal  that  evening  at  the  thought  of  what  would 
happen  to  the  rats,  and  he  fell  asleep  and  dreamed  that  he 
was  a  hand-organ,  and  that  some  one  stole  the  crank  to 
him  so  that  he  couldn't  be  played  on.  Just  before  going 
to  bed  old  Emerson  went  out 
after  a  scuttle  of  coal,  and  he 
stepped  his  bootless  foot  into 
that  trap.  He  made  a  mighty 
spring  and  uttered  a  mighty  yell, 
and  it  took  two  men  ten  minutes 
to  spring  the  trap  off  his  leg. 

The  Old  Man's  Arodments.  "  It's    that    boy's     WOrk  !"     hc 

groaned  as  he  nursed  his  foot,  and  he  took  up  the  boot- 
jack, limped  into  the  bedroom  and  gave  Bob  an  a^^^ul  clip. 


368  GONE    UP. 

just  as  the  child  was  dreaming  of  playing  base  ball  with 
a  mermaid. 

"  ril  pound  ye  to  death  if  ye  don't  stop  this  fooling !" 
cried  the  old  man,  but  he  hadn't  been  out  of  the  bedroom 
ten  minutes  before  Bob  was  planning  to  stop  up  the  chim- 
ney next  day  and  smoke  everybody  out  of  the  house.  It 
w^asn't  many  days  before  he  fixed  a  darning  needle  in  the 
cushion  of  his  father's  arm  chair  and  bounced  the  old  man 
three  feet  high,  and  his  licking  hadn't  got  over  smarting 
before  he  exploded  a  fire-cracker  in  his  mother's  snufi:*  box. 
That  night  the  old  man  said  to  him  as  he  took  him  by 
the  ear : 

"  Robert  Parathon  Emerson,  do  you  ever  think  of  where 
you  will  go  to  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  answered,  "I'll  go  to  bed  purty  soon  !" 

Then  he  got  another  mauling  and  went  to  bed  to  dream 
that  he  was  a  three-tined  pitchfork,  and  that  a  man  was 
using  him  to  load  hay  with. 

Poor  boy  !  Even  three  days  before  he  died,  and  while 
on  his  death-bed,  he  managed  to  slip  an  eight-ounce  tack 
into  his  father's  left  boot  and  get  up  another  circus.  If 
he's  in  Heaven  now  I  truly  believe  he'll  put  up  some  job 
on  the  first  angel  that  comes  around  him. 


THE  WOMAN  WITH  THE  POETRY. 


^IR:  WAS  strolling  around  in  ClGvelancl  when  I  met 
jjj^  "  By."  Brown,  who  flew  the  frisket  and  pulled  the 
press  when  I  first  learned  to  ink  the  roller.  We  used 
to  have  "  Sheep's-foot  sling  "  together,  suffered  alike  for 
the  want  of  prompt  pay,  and  I  was  glad  to  see  him.  He 
wanted  to  go  down  to  the  Plain  Dealer  ofiice  to  see  some 
of  the  boys,  and  I  went  along. 

We  reached  the  ofiice  soon  after  the  editors  had  started 
out  for  dinner,  and  were  overhauling  the  exchanges  when 
a  gaunt,  sharp-nosed  woman,  looking  red  in  the  face  from 
climbing  the  stairs,  stood  in  the  door  and  asked  if  she 
could  see  the  editor. 

"  Come  in,  madam,"  said  Brown,  bowing  with  great  gal- 
lantry— "  I  am  the  editor," 

"  Well,  we've  taken  this  paper  for  seventeen  years,"  she 
continued  as  she  sat  down  beside  him,  "  and  I  want  a  little 
favor.  We've  lost  our  child — our  little  Eoss,  and  I've 
written  a  few  verses  on  him  and  would  like  to  have  'em 
printed  in  the  paper." 

"  With  pleasure,  madam,"  replied  Brown,  reaching  out 
for  the  foolscap  on  which  she  had  written  twelve  or  four- 
teen verses. 

"  The  neighbors  say  it's  real  poetry,"  she  went  on,  "  and 
though  I  don't  purtend  to  be  a  poet  I  think  there  is  some- 
thing here  to  touch  every  mother's  heart." 
X  369 


370 


THE    PIE-BALD    EYE. 


"  Let's  see  ?"  mused  Brown,  as  he  glanced  at  the  first 
verse ;  "it  starts  off"  good : 

We've  lost  our  darling  boss, 
And  we  deeply  mourn  his  loss." 

"Hoss!"  she  exclauTied — there's 
no  hoss  in  them  verses  !" 

"  H-o-ss,  hoss — isn't  that  hoss?" 
he  asked. 

"  Hoss — our  boy's  name,"  she 
explained  as  she  looked  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  Ah !  I  see,  now.     Well : 

He  is  with  the  angels  now, 
With  a  garland  on  the  cow." 

"  What !"  she  shrieked,  snatch- 
NoT  A  Poet.  jj-,g.  ^t  the  manuscript. 

"  With  a  garland  on  the  cow,  madam,"  he  replied. 
*'  That's  original  and  touching." 

"  It's  a  garland  on  his  broiv,^'  she  said,  beginning  to 
breathe  hard. 

"  It  may  be — it  may  be,"  he  continued  in  a  dubious  tone, 
"  but  I  would  advise  you  to  leave  it  the  other  way.  This 
poetry  will  be  copied  all  over  the  world,  and  although  I 
am  no  great  judge  of  poetry,  and  the  ofiice  is  a  little  hard 
up  for  money  just  now,  I  should  feel  safe  in  ofiering  you 
$1,000  for  this  poem  just  as  it  stands." 

"  Is  that  so  !"  she  gasped,  smiling  clear  back  to  her  ears. 

"  I  might  even  do  better,  but  let's  see  the  next  verse : 


He  was  a  joyous  child, 
And  he  had  a  pie-bald  eye." 

"Pie — what — bald — bald  what!"  she  screamed   as  she 
rose  up  again. 

"Oh,  I  see  now — 'and  his  eye  was  blue   and   mild.' 


A  FALL  OF  TEARS. 


371 


'Wq]],  as  a  friend,  as  a  disintGrested  friend,  I  would  advise 
yon  to  leave  the  line  as  I  read  it.  Children  are  dying 
around  us  every  day,  madam,  but  it  isn't  once  a  year  that 
a  child  with  a  pie-bald  eye  is  fol- 
lowed to  the  grave.  I  tell  you 
that  this  poem  is  certain  to  lift 
you  from  the  pit  of  obscurity  to 
the  eminence  of  fame  in  just  one 
day.     But  to  go  on  : 


He  was  too  pure  to  stay, 
And  so  lie  flew  a  dray." 

"A  what— a  dray!" 
"  Yes,  madam — he  flew  a  dray. 
That  expression  alone  is  worth 
$500   to   you,  and   I  hope  you 
won't  alter  it." 
"Is  That  So?"  "  And  SO  he  flcw  au'tt)/  r'  she 

exclaimed  as  she  put  her  finger  on  the  lino. 

"  I  believe  it  is,  but  still  I  hojDc  you  won't  change  it. 
Those  two  verses  are  splendid,  and  now : 

We  ne'er  shall  see  liim  more, 
And  it  makes  our  heels  so  sore. 

That's  another  five  hundred  dollar  expression,  madam,  and 
if  I  were  pinned " 

"Are  you  making  fun  of  me?"  she  inquired  as  she  rose 
up  and  laid  a  large-sized  fist  on  the  tabic  and  drew  her 
mouth  into  a  very  serious  shape. 

"  Could  I  have  the  heart  to  sport  with  your  affliction, 
madam  ?  By  the  beard  of  the  Prophet,  no !  Let  me 
finish : 

Our  tears  fall  night  and  day, 
But  we'll  not  forget  to  play. 


That's  good — excellent ! 
madam,  and " 


Exercise  is  good  for  the  health, 


372  LOST    HER    SUBSCRIPTION. 

"  Gimme  them  verses !"  she  demanded  in  a  hoarse 
whisper. 

"  I  will,  madam,  but  I  wouldn't  make  any  corrections  if 
I  were  you.     Kow  hear  the  next : 

We  miss  his  pattering  feet — 
We  miss  his  lamb-like  bleat. 

Now,  madam,  if  one  thousand  dollars  is  any " 

She  made  a  grab,  secured  the  verses,  and  as  she  raised 

her  umbrella  over  her  shoulder  she  gasped  out : 
"  Taken  this — paper — seventeen — years  !" 
"Do   not   be   agitated,   madam — control    your   nerves. 

You  see " 

"But  I'll  stop  it — I'll  stop  it!"  she  screamed. 

"  Stay,    madam.      Let    me    argue   with    you — let    me 

entreat " 

"I'll  stop  it — I'll  stop  it!"  she  screamed  as  she  sailed 

down  the  hall. 

"  Madam,  listen  to  me — a  lone  man — an  orphan — a " 

"  And  I'll  git  all  my  neighbors  to  stop  it !"  she  yelled 

back  from  the  landing. 

"  Madam,  would  you  ruin  an  orphan — crush  down " 

"  And  I'll  git  up  a  club  for  the  Leader!''  she  shrieked 

back,  and — and " 

She  was  out  of  hearing. 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  THE  SELF-MADE  MEN 
OF  DETROIT. 


[very  city  has  a  certain  few  citizens  of 
wliom  it  is  proud,  because  of  their  long 
and  victorious  struggles  against  the  frowns 
of  Fortune.  Detroit  is  no  exception  to 
the  rule.  As  the  modesty  of  the  individu- 
als here  given  would  have  prevented  them 
from  writing  themselves  up  for  any  of  the 
Harpers'  publications,  no  matter  what  dis- 
count was  allowed  for  geographical  situa- 
tion, the  reader  can  congratulate  himself 
that  he  would  have  never  learned  the  his- 
tories of  some  of  them  but  for  the  enterprise  of  your 
humble  servant. 

James  McGee  came  to  this  city  forty-nine  years  ago, 
with  only  seven  cents  in  his  pocket.  By  strict  attention 
to  business  he  has  not  only  been  enabled  to  increase  his 
capital  one-half,  but  is  able  to  rent  a  house  at  fifteen  dol- 
lars per  month,  where  the  landlord  don't  know  who  he  is. 
At  one  time  he  was  owing  nearly  six  hundred  dollars,  such 
was  his  business  energy ;  but  at  this  writing  he  doesn't  owe 
a  cent — the  debts  having  outlawed. 

John  Tweezer  came  here  twenty-one  years  ago,  having 

less  than  forty  cents  about  him.     He  saw  a  fine  opening 

here  for  a  cotton  factory,  and  he  sees  one  yet.     He  l)elieves 

he  might  have  cleared  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  by 

373 


37-i 


TAVEEZER    AND    SWIPES. 


establishing  a  large  factory  of  tlie  kind,  but  lie  didn't  start 

one.     His  liabits  of  frngality,  industry  and  perseverance 
at  length  attracted  the  attention  of  a 
gentleman  connected  with  the  House 
of  Correction,  and  he  "  took  him  in  " 
to  assist  in  running  the  chair  business. 
Although  Mr.  Tweezer  didn't  lose  a 
cent,  he  came  out  of  the  partnership 
business  after  six   months  without  a 
dollar.     But   he  had   a   spirit  which 
could  not  be  put  down,  and  prevailed 
upon  a  man  to  give  him  another  start. 
He  is  now  able  to  ride  in  a  carriage — 
^1^^' being  coachman   for  a  family  in  the 
"      western   part   of  the   city.      He   has 
Frugality.  never  had  the  honor  of  having  his 

wood  cut  appear  in  the  Phrenological  Journal,  but  the  chief 

of  police  has  on  file  a  very  nice  photograph  of  him. 

Henry  Swipes  took  up  his  residence  here  nearly  fifteen 

years  ago,  living  for  the  first  three 

months  in  the  brown  stone  man- 
sion on  the  corner  of  Beaubien 

and  Clinton  streets.     He  hadn't 

a  cent  in  his  pockets,  no  change 

of  clothing,   had    to    contribute 

from  his  earnings  to  the  support 

of  a  mother  and  seven  children, 

and  any  man  of  ordinary  spirit 

would    have    been    discouraged. 

Mr.  Swipes  was  not  of  that  metal. 

He  saw  that  a  boiler  shop  would 

pay  a  large  profit,  and  so  he — 

tried  to  borrow  ten  dollars  to  start  a  saloon,  but  as  no  one 

could  see  where  he  was  going  to  use  so  much  money,  he 


Didn't  Get  Discouraged. 


SLAGS,    STRIKER    AND    QUIRK.  375 

didn't  get  it.  He  then  went  to  work  as  a  laborer,  and  has 
moved  in  that  sphere  ever  since,  being  able  this  spring  ta 
have  the  city  assess  seventy  dollars  on  an  alley  sewer 
behind  his  landlord's  house.  He  has  never  taken  an  office 
in  his  life,  because  he  can't  get  one,  and  he  looks  upon 
political  struggles  with  scorn  and  disdain. 

J.  H.  R.  N.  Slags  came  here  when  Detroit  was  a  town 
of  a  few  thousand  inhabitants,  and  he  brought  all  his 
initials  with  him.  After  considerable  discussion  he  decided 
that  property  would  soon  double,  and  would  haye  pur- 
chased several  blocks  if  holders  could  have  been  induced 
to  do  a  credit  business.  He  consequently  didn't  purchase, 
and  has  had  to  make  his  fortune  in  other  ways.  He 
decided  never  to  tell  the  truth  under  any  circumstances, 
and  has  stuck  to  his  decision  with  remarkable  pertinacity 
and  force  of  character,  and  to  this  fact  he  owes  most  of 
his  wealth — that  is,  the  wealth  his  grandmother  is  going 
to  leave  him.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  handling  consider- 
able money,  but  had  to  quit  when  the  alarm-bell  money 
drawer  was  invented,  as  it  then  became  too  risky. 

Samuel  Striker  came  here  only  ten  years  ago,  and  has 
already  succeeded  in  outrunning  three  different  policemen, 
and  in  keeping  clear  of  seven  or  eight  documents  issued 
from  various  courts.  Most  any  man  would  give  up  in  des- 
pair and  get  across  to  Windsor,  but  Mr.  Striker  is  bound 
to  keep  his  residence  in  Detroit,  and  can't  be  persuaded 
that  Jackson  is  any  location  for  business. 

John  Quirk  settled  here  fifteen  years  ago.  He  was  as 
remarkable  then  as  now  for  his  great  decision  of  character. 
He  had  been  in  Detroit  but  three  hours  before  he  decided 
to  marry  a  brown  stone  house,  and  a  half  interest  in  a 
bank.  Unfortunately,  the  young  lady  was  endowed  with 
the  same  great  decision,  and  ]\[r.  Quirk  didn't  marry.  He 
is  now  driving  team,  patiently  waiting  his  time. 


376 


A^'D    BLANK   AND    HOPE. 


Septimus  Blank  came  here  in  indigent  circumstances. 
He  soon  saw  that  there  was  a  chance  to  speculate  in  real 
estate,  and  WTote  to  his  uncle  to  lend  him  fifteen  thousand 

dollars.  His  uncle  replied 
that  he  hadn't  even  fifteen 
cents,  and  thus  the  specula- 
tion fell  through.  However, 
Mr.  Blank  could  not  be  put 
back  by  such  a  trifie  as 
fifteen  thousand  dollars,  or 
even  fifteen  cents,  and  has 
worked  his  way  against  the 
tide  until  last  year  he  was 
able  to  draw  a  check  for 
thirty  thousand  dollars.  He 
"  drew  it  over  "  a  country- 
man and  got  twenty-eight 
dollars  on  the  strength  of  it, 
and  is  now  spending  a  season  in  the  Adirondacks,  or 
somewhere  else  out  of  the  reach  of  policemen. 

Solomon  Hope  is  the  last  on  the  list.  He  moved  into 
Detroit  on  a  hand-sled,  and  the  first  house  he  lived  in  was 
a  stable.  He  has  been  many  times  heard  to  say  that  his 
sole  food  for  the  first  year  was  nothing  but  corn  meal  and 
molasses.  Our  citizens  all  know  Avhere  the  povst-oflice  is  ? 
Well,  Mr.  Hope  don't  own  that  building,  and  never  will. 
He  started  a  small  grocery  store  on  Woodward  avenue, 
and,  by  strict  honesty  and  the  utmost  economy,  succeeded 
in  getting  out  of  town  one  night  \vith  every  cent  he  ever 
made  and  some  which  he  didn't  make.  It  is  due,  how- 
ever, to  him  to  state  that  he  shortly  returned  and  com- 
promised the  matter — by  stealing  a  horse  and  getting 
where  his  creditors  couldn't  put  up  any  job  on  him. 


Quirk's  Vain  Love. 


THE  LATE  ARTEMUS  WARD'S  WARM  FRIENDS. 


fJT  addition  to  being  a  good  fellow,  I  think  the  late 
Ai'temus  Ward  had  a  large  number  of  warm  personal 
friends.  I  suppose  that  a  great  many  of  them  have 
followed  him  "  over  the  river,"  but  I  think  there's  enough 
left  to  quite  cover  an  acre  of  ground.  Among  the  letters 
received  last  week  were  the  following : 

"Jersey  City,  August  20,  1875. 
Mr.  Quad — Dear  Sir — I  understand  that  you  are  going 
to  publish  a  book.     I  hope  you  will  make  a  success  of  it. 

J.  B.  M., 

Warm  friend  of  the  late  Artemus  Ward." 

And  this : 

"O^-ER  THE  Rhine,  Cincestkati,  Aug.  18. 

Mr.  Quat — I  haf  understandt  you  will  be  going  to  make 
a  vunny  pook.  Ish  dot  zo  ?  ^lake  zum  goot  bicture  for 
her,  und  spheuks  lots  of  shokes. 

Very  drooly, 

HANS  G., 
Der  warm  frent  mit  der  late  Ardemus  Wart." 

And  this : 

"Philadelphia,  August  16. 

Mr.  Quad — When  is  that  book  to  be  issued  ?     Send  me 

a  copy  C.  0.  D. 

Yours, 

B.  F.  L., 
Warm  friend  of  the  late  Artemus  Ward." 

377 


378  MORE    WARM    FRIENDS. 

And  tliis : 

"  Chicago,  August  15tli. 

Mr.  McQuad — I  am  a  raspictable  widely  woman,  and  I 
have  to  wash  for  a  living.  Dennis  McCarthy  was  a  sphak- 
ing  to  me  uv  that  book  uv  yours,  and  I  forward  thray  dol- 
lars by  this  mail  to  prhocurc  a  copy.     Send  it  airly. 

Very  raspictably, 

B.  McG., 

Warum  frind  of  the  late  Artemus  Ward." 

And  this : 

"Brunswick,  O.,  Aug.  17. 

M.  Q.—JDear  Sir— Is  that  book  out  yet  ?     What  is  the 

price  ?     Is  it  anything  like  a  dictionary,  and  will  it  have 

red  covers  ? 

Yours  ever, 

V.  L.   S., 
Warm  friend  of  the  late  Artemus  Ward." 

And  this : 

"Lexington,  August  13th. 

Dear  Sir — I  want  to  act  as  agent  for  your  book.     I  think 

I  can  sell  a  large  number  of  them,  as  everybody  around 

here  knows  me  as 

S.  T.  F., 

Warm  friend  of  the  late  Artemus  Ward." 

And  this : 

"Milwaukee,  August  19. 

M.  Quad — I  notice  by  the  papers  that  you  are  going  to 

get  out  a  book.     Is  it  a  Sunday  school  book,  and  would  it 

be  safe  to  let  my  children  read  it  ? 

Very  truly, 

L.  A.  M., 
Warm  friend  of  the  late  Artemus  Ward." 

There  were  twenty-two  other  letters  similarly  signed, 
and  more  are  coming  in  by  every  mail.  It  seems  to  me 
that  a  man  as  well  provided  with  warm  personal  friends 
as  Mr.  Ward,  should  have  died  owang  more  borrowed 
money  than  he  did. 


THE  BAD  BOY. 


CHAPTER   I. — INTRODUCTORY 


|iT"^-T  IS  name  was  John  Anderson  TompMns,  and  lie  was 
03^  going  on  thirteen  years  old.  He  had  freckles  all 
over  his  nose,  chewed  plug  tobacco,  and  loafed  around 
select  schools  and  put  "  tin  ears  "  on  boys  smaller  than 
himself.  His  father  was  killed  by  a  Canada  saw  log,  his 
only  sister  slept  in  the  silent  tomb,  and  his  mother  divided 
time  between  gossiping  and  canvassing  for  money  for  the 
heathen  in  Africa. 

CHAPTER   II. THUSLY. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  there  was  no  one  to  give  John 
Anderson  Tompkins  any  domestic  attention  beyond  an 
occasional  whack  with  a  slipper,  which  made  him  the 
worse.  He  wasn't  sent  to  school,  never  had  to  take  a  dose 
of  castor  oil,  was  allowed  to  go  around  with  a  letter  in  the 
post-office,  and  his  pants  supported  by  a  magnificent  belt 
of  sheep  twine,  and  if  he  wasn't  home  by  ten  o'clock  at 
night  his  mother  was  sure  he  would  dump  down  some- 
where and  be  home  in  time  for  codfish  and  potatoes  in  the 
morning. 

CHAPTER    III. SHAMEFUL    NEGLECT. 

John  Anderson  Tompkins'  mother  never  took  liim  on 
her  knee  and  asked  him  if  he  knew  where  he'd  go  to  if  he 
379 


380  THAT    boy's    work. 

grew  up  to  be  an  awful  liar  and  horse  thief.  She  never 
told  him  about  the  children  of  Egypt,  Moses  in  the  bull- 
rushes,  or  Daniel  in  the  lion's  den,  and  it  is  no  wonder 
that  he  grew  up  to  be  a  bad  boy.  She  never  had  sticking 
plasters  ready  when  he  got  cut,  and  on  Sunday  mornings 
there  was  no  one  to  rub  him  behind  his  ears,  fill  his  eyes 
with  soap  water,  and  comb  his  hair  the  wrong  way. 


Not  in  School. 


CHAPTER    IV. — HIS    PECULIARITIES. 

Everything  that  happened  in  the  village  was  laid  at  John 
Anderson  Tompkins'  door:  "It's  some  of  that  boy's  work," 
whenever  a  bushel  of  plums,  a  watermelon,  or  a  peck  of 
peaches  mysteriously  disappeared.  He  was  probably  guilty 
of  everything  charged,  as  when  he  died  they  found  where 
he  had  hidden  seventeen  stolen  cow-bells,  forty  axes,  ever 
so  many  saw-bucks,  fifteen  or  twenty  front  gates,  and  I 
don't  remember  how  many  snow  shovels. 


MORE    ABOUT    THE    RASCAL.  381 


CHAPTER    V. — DOWN    ON    IIIxM. 


In  time,  as  the  reader  was  informed  in  a  previous  chap- 
ter, the  adult  male  population  of  the  village  got  down  on 
John  Anderson  Tompkins.  Old  maids  jabbed  at  him  with 
umbrellas,  merchants  ilung  pound  weights  at  him,  shoe- 
makers dosed  him  with  strap  oil,  and  grocers  always 
looked  around  for  John  Anderson  Tompkins  when  they 
wanted  to  heave  out  bad  eggs  or  spoiled  fruit. 


His  Outside  Friends. 


CHAPTER   VI. — HIS    AMBITION. 


You  may  think  that  they  would  have  eventually  suc- 
ceeded in  breaking  the  boy's  spirit  and  dashing  his  hopes, 
but  they  couldn't  do  it.  He  had  an  ambition  which  noth- 
ing could  check.  He  wanted  to  be  a  bold  pirate  and  sail 
on  the  raging  main,  and  he  was  patiently  waiting  for  the 
time  to  come  when  he  could  wear  No.  10  boots,  and  swear 
in  a  voice  like  the  echoes  of  a  bass-viol.  He  would  be 
content  to  crawl  into  hen-roosts  and  to  creep  around  horse 
barns  for  a  few  years,  but  then — but  then 


382  HE    FINDS    NEW    PLUNDER. 

CHAPTER    VII. — EFFORTS    TO    REFORM. 

Some  of  the  most  pliilanthropic  citizens  made  strenuous 
efforts  to  reform  the  boj.  They  locked  him  up  in  a  smoke 
house  for  a  week;  they  club- 
bed him  till  he  couldn't  yell, 
and  they  held  him  under  a 
pump  until  he  was  as  limp  as 
a  rag,  but  as  soon  as  they  let 

Efforts  at  Reform.  him   gO,    he    WCUt    right    back 

to   his   old   habits   again. 

CHAPTER   Yin. — NEARING   HIS   END. 

John  Anderson  Tompkins  had  kept  this  thing  up  for 
eight  or  nine  years  when  our  story  opens,  and  he  was  near- 
ing  his  end.  Justice  overtakes  the  guilty,  sooner  or  later, 
and  justice  was  lying  low  for  this  bad  boy.  He  had  the 
cheek  to  believe  that  he  would  live  to  be  a  hundred  years 
old,  but  he  was  to  be  taken  down  a  peg  or  two,  and  his 
mother  left  an  orphan. 

CHAPTER    IX. THE    END. 

One  day,  while  in  the  hey-day  of  his  wickedness,  John 
Anderson  Tompkins  came  upon  something  new  in  the 
line  of  plunder.  It  was  a  pile  of  little  cans  labeled  "  nitro- 
glycerine— hands  off — dangerous,  etc.,"  but  he  couldn't 
read,  and  didn't  care  a  copper.  He  carried  a  can  behind 
the  meeting-house  and  sat  down   on  a  rock  to  open  it. 

There  wasn't  any  guardian  angel  around  to  tell  him  that 
he'd  "get  busted"  if  he  fooled  with  that  can,  and  so  he 
spit  on  both  hands,  and  gave  it  a  whack  with  a  stone. 

CHAPTER    X, OBITUARY. 

The  folks  all  ran  out,  and  after  a  good  deal  of  trouble, 


AND    GOES    UP    WITH    IT. 


38: 


tliey  found  and  separated  the  pieces  of  boy,  and  got 
together  enough  of  John  Anderson  to  till  a  cigar-box  and 
answer  as  the  basis  of  the  funeral.  They  buried  him  in  a 
quiet  nook,  and  the  grave-stone  maker  put  a  little  lamb  on 
the  head-stone,  to  show  that  John  Anderson  Tompkins 
was  meek  and  lovely. 


THE  GOOD  BOY, 


A   SEQUEL    TO   TIIE  BAD   BOY. 


CHAPTEK    I. — INTRODUCTION. 

UEERLY  enougli,  once  upon  a  time  there  was 

a  very  good  boy  living  in  tlie  State  of  ISTew 

W  Jersey.     Some  readers  may  think  it  singular 

that  a  good  boy  should  live  in  New  Jersey, 

but  I  am  writing  facts. 

CHAPTER    II. HIS    NAME. 

The  name  of  this  very  good  boy  was  Charles  Henry 
"Worthington  Adams,,  and  he  had  white  hair,  a  freckled 
face,  an  innocent  look,  and  his  highest  aim  was  to  please 
his  father  and  mother.  His  father  never  had  to  tell  him 
to  take  off  his  coat  and  come  to  the  barn  for  a  thrashing, 
and  his  mother  never  broke  any  of  her  fingers  cuffing  his 
ears. 

CHAPTER   III. — RETIRING   DISPOSITION. 

Charles  Henry  Worthington  was  of  a  very  retiring  dis- 
position, always  retiring  to  bed  at  early  candle-light.  He 
never  made  any  fuss  about  going  up  stairs  in  the  dark,  as 
most  boys  do,  and  even  if  his  parents  had  a  strawberry 
festival  in  the  house,  or  his  father  was  reading  a  dime 
novel  aloud,  the  little  hero  would  promptly  seek  his  couch 
at  the  usual  hour  without  a  murmur. 
384 


MORE    ABOUT    THE    GOOD    BOY. 


385 


CHAPTER    IV. — FORGIVING    SPIRIT. 


:los  Henry  Worthingtoii  had  a  very  meek,  forgiving 
spirit,  and  he  didn't  hold  a  grudge  as 
some  boys  do ;  he  wasn't  that  kind.  He 
didn't  go  around  blowing  how  he'd  fix 
the  old  man's  ear,  or  that  he'd  make 
his  mother  mighty  sorry,  and  he  never 
threatened  to  run  away  to  sea  and 
become  a  bold  pirate.  He  didn't  know 
anything  about  prize-fights,  duels  or 
bowie  knives ;  and  if  a  boy  went  to 
put  a  head  on  him,  Charles  Henry 
"Worthington  always  made  a  bolt  for 
home. 


CHAPTER   v. — HE    LOVED    HIS    HOME. 

Our  good  boy  loved  his  home,  and  it  was  seldom  that  he 
wandered  from  it,  unless  his  mother  sent  him  to  borrow 
Mrs.  Bradly's  quilt-frame  or  Mrs.  Tyler's  brass  kettle.  He 
never  went  out  stealing  water  melons ;  never  ran  away  to 
go  in  SAvimming ;  would  never  go  with  the  boys  to  see  a 
dead  horse  or  a 
sick  cow,  but  he 
preferred  to  pick  _^ 
upchipSjhoeinthe  ^i^ 
garden  or  hunt  out  -^^O 
and  kill  the  pesky  ^g 
potato -bugs.  In 
the  course  of  seven 
years  this  boy  won  four  school  medals,  had  the  bilious  colic 
twice,  won  a  Sunday  school  prize,  and  had  the  honor  of 


386 


HE    LEFT    NEW    JERSEY. 


riding  to  a  religious  pic-nic  Avith  his  legs  over  the  end- 
board  of  the  minister's  one-horse  wagon. 

CHAPTER   VI. — TAKEN    SICK. 

At  last  this  boy  was  taken  sick.  You  may  have  observed 
that  all  good  boys  generally  die  young,  especially  good 
N'ew  Jersey  boys.  His  mother  made  him  toast  and  catnip 
tea,  soaked  his  feet  and  tied  a  towel  around  his  head,  but, 
alas !  he  grew  worse.  She  gave  him  a  pill  in  some  pear 
sauce,  made  him  some  ginger  tea,  and  promised  him  a 
bunch  of  fire  crackers  the  next  Fourth  of  July. 


CHAPTER    VII, — HE    WAS    DOOMED. 


"Lemme  See  Your  Tongue.' 


He  grew  worse,  and 
the  doctor  was  sent 
for.  The  doctor  felt  his 
pulse,  looked  into  his 
mouth  and  made  him 
run  out  his  tongue ;  spit 
on  the  carpet,  and  said 
he  guessed  Charles  Hen- 
ry Worthington  would 
soon  get  well.    But 


CHAPTER  VIII— HE    WAS    SUCKED    IN, 

This  doctor  was.  He  wasn't  used  to  doctoring  good  little 
boys,  and  within  twenty-four  hours  after  he  left  the  house 
Charles  Henry  Worthington  was  a  shining  angel,  and  his 
father  had  to  split  his  own  kindlings  and  make  his  own 
fires.  They  buried  him  under  a  weeping  willow,  letting 
all  the  Sunday  school  children  march  around  and  have  a 
sight  of  him,  and  it  was  two  months  before  his  mother 
could  go  to  the  sewing  society  and  talk  as  freely  as  before. 


TO    CHILDKEN. 


387 


CHAPTER  IX — THE   END. 

There's  nothing  like  being  a  good  boy.  I  hope  that  all 
the  little  boys  and  girls  who  read  this  will  try  from  this 
time  forward  to  be  a  good  boy,  so  that  when  they  die  they 
may  have  a  marble  lamb  with  a  bushy  tail  on  their  tomb- 
stone. 


CLEANING  HOUSE. 


E  always  begin  cleaning  house 
on  the  first  of  May.  We  have 
just  commenced  now,  and  I  write 
these  few  lines  on  the  bread- 
board, with  a  bureau  drawer  for 
a  seat,  while  Long  Primer  is 
playing  horse  in  the  parlor  with 
a  bust  of  Andrew  Jackson,  and  Small  Pica  is  dipping  lace 
curtains  into  a  pail  of  whitewash. 

We  don't  clean  one  room  at  a  time,  but  go  at  it  in  a 
wholesale  way  and  rake  the  old  house  from  floor  to  roof. 
Three  mornings  ago  when  I  started  down  town  my  wife 
said  in  her  innocent,  deceiving  way,  that  she  guessed  she'd 
do  a  little  house  cleaning,  and  that  we'd  have  a  picked  up 
dinner.  When  I  returned  home  the  bedsteads  were  circling 
around  the  back  yard,  the  kitchen  stove  was  buried  under 
the  straw  beds,  the  curtains  were  down,  windows  out,  car- 
pets up,  and  four  Africans  were  mildly  drawing  their  white- 
wash brushes  over  the  ceilings  and  having  an  animated 
discussion  about  cremation.  My  wife  said  she'd  have  it  so 
clean  that  a  fly  would  break  its  neck  slipping  down,  and 
she  was  so  enthusiastic  about  it  that  I  cheerfully  ate  dinner 
oiF  the  mantle  piece  and  made  no  remarks  about  it  when 
I  found  the  cork  of  the  camphor  bottle  and  the  front  door 
key  stufied  into  the  spout  of  the  coflee-pot.  When  I  left 
the  house  Small  Pica  was  hanging  to  the  pegs  of  the  hall- 


HURRYING    IT    UP.  389 

tree  and  singing  "  Mollie  Darling,"  and  Long  Primer  was 
trying  to  wipe  the  whitewash  out  of  his  left  eye  with  a 
chromo  of  the  Yosemite  Valley,  but  my  wife  said  I  needn't 
stay  on  their  account. 

I  came  up  at  night  believing  that  everything  would  be 
regulated,  but  the  bedsteads  in  the  back  yard  had  increased 
in  number,  chromos  were  hanging  to  the  clothes  line,  the 
clock  was  being  dissected  in  the  alley  by  a  youth  of  great 
inventive  genius,  and  carpets,  stair-rods,  looking-glasses, 
crockery,  brackets  and  rolling-pins  were  so  piled  in  together 
that  my  head  swam. 


The  Back-Yaud. 

"  I'm  hurrying  it  up,"  said  my  wife  in  a  joyful  tone  as 
she  waved  her  hand  at  the  painters,  a  scrub  woman  and  a 
carpenter  who  had  been  added  to  the  force. 

I  sat  down  on  the  teakettle  and  had  supper  served  on 
the  north  end  of  a  spring  mattress,  and  when  I  broke  a 
tooth  on  a  glass  agate  concealed  in  a  biscuit,  and  didn't 
say  a  word,  Mrs.  Quad  threw  her  arms  around  me  and 
said  she  might  have  married  a  man  with  a  lightning 
temper. 

I  felt  flattered   and  went  in  to  encourage  the  white- 


390 


MILL    SPOILED    BY    A    SPICE    CAN. 


washers  and  painters.  They  said  if  it  didn't  rain,  or  wasn't 
too  cold,  or  too  hot,  and  they  kept  in  good  health,  and 
other  jobs  didn't  distract  their  attention,  they'd  finish  up 
within  a  week  or  two,  and  one  of  them  smashed  a  vase 
and  another  punched  out  a  three-dollar  pane  of  glass  by 
way  of  emphasis.  I  had  blue  paint  on  my  coat  tails,  white 
on  my  elbows  and  straAv-color  on  my  knees  when  I  got 
out,  and  a  bad  boy  j^ellcd : 

"Here  comes  another  of  them  variegated  sunflowers!" 

"We  didn't  sleep  much  that  night.     Somehow  or  other, 

no  matter  how  honest  a  man  is,  he  can't  rest  very  well  on 


'Now  I  Lay  Me. 


a  straw  bed  on  the  floor,  with  stove  covers  gliding  around 
under  his  back,  and  teaspoons,  potato-mashers  and  pint 
basins  feeling  of  his  toes.  I  dreamed  that  I  was  a  panel 
bedstead  on  castors,  and  I  had  a  bet  of  five  dollars  with  the 
parlor  stove  that  I  could  lick  the  front  bedroom  bureau  in 
just  two  minutes,  but  before  the  "mill"  came  oft'  the 
spice  can  rolled  down  into  my  ear  and  woke  me  up. 

Next  morning  Small  Pica,  who  was  in  bounding  spirits, 
essayed  a  lunch  off"  of  half  a  pound  of  putty  which  the 


A    SILVER-PLATED    DREAM. 


391 


painters  had  left  sticking  to  a  bronze  bust  of  Demosthenes, 
and  Long  Primer  sat  down  on  the  butcher  knife  and  got 
up  howling;  but  my  wife  said  that  this  was  a  workl  of 
trifling  incident,  and  told  me  to  go  off  feeling  happy. 
Before  I  got  down  town  I  found  the  sugar  spoon  in  my 
vest  pocket  and  a  towel  hitched  to  my  coat  tail,  but  I  went 
on.  At  noon  there  was  an  extra  painter  on  hand,  another 
scrubbing  woman  for  the  stairs,  and  an  orphan  boy  about 
thirty-six  j^ears  old  had  been  hired  to  empty  the  straw  beds 
on  the  front  steps  and  tear  out  the  pantry  shelves.  We 
haven't  got  through  yet — in  fact,  this  is  chapter  I.  There 
are  eleven  more  chapters  to  come,  and  to-night  I  am  going 

to  sleep  on  the  table, 
Small  Pica  in  a  six-gal- 
lon jar,  and  the  rest  of 
them  on  the  window- 
sills,  as  the  kitchen 
floor  has  just  been 
painted  and  the  paper- 
hangers  don't  want  the 
other  rooms  mussed 
up  until  the  paste  dries 
dreamtno.  and  the  paint  sets. 

Later — midnkhit. — I  fell  asleep  and  dreamed  that  I  was 
a  silver-plated,  six-bottle,  revolving  castor,  and  that  the 
Boup  tureen  called  me  a  liar.  I  went  to  go  for  him,  and 
awoke  on  the  floor,  with  my  elbow  in  a  pan  of  flour  and 
the  meat  broiler  wildly  clutching  me  by  the  throat.  Wliat 
the  morrow  will  bring  forth  I  don't  know. 


^«iHSl 


PATENT   No.  249,826. 


HIS  patent  is  a  device  intended  to  reduce  the 
mortality  reports  of  the  country  by  reducing 
the  number  of  runaways.     The  "  Fat  Con- 
tributor "  had  a  device  by  which  a  horse  was 
lifted  off  his  feet  as  he  started  to  run,  and 
Seymour,  of  the  Milwaukee  Keics,  attempted 
to  secure  a  patent  on  a  device  to  draw  a  horse 
up  into  the  buggy,  but  both  were  failures. 
The  device,  as  shown  in  the  accompanying  cut,  is  entirely 
of  my  own  invention.     As  can  be  readily  perceived,  the 
horse  is  made  to  carry  all  the  burden  and  the  anxiety  of 

mind.  The  board  can  be 
painted  a  j)lain  color,  as  blue 
or  white  or  black,  or  striped 
off  in  red,  white  and  blue. 
Some  enterprising  business 
men  have  already  taken  ad- 
vantage of  the  occasion  to 
adorn  the  board  with  an 
As  AN  Ornament.  advertisement  of  their  wares. 

Any  active  and  energetic  carpenter  can  make  one  of 
these  boards  in  three  days,  and  each  one  will  last  a  life- 
time. After  the  horse  is  cured  of  his  habit  the  board 
makes  a  handsome  lawn  ornament,  when  leaned  gracefully 
against  a  peach  tree.  It  can  be  sold  for  a  black-board, 
392 


VERY    FLATTERING. 


393 


used  on  the  hay-mow  for  the  boys  to  play  enchro  on,  and 
there  is  no  end  to  the  uses  to  which  it  can  be  jmt, 

A  circular  of  instructions  accompanies  each  board.  The 
first  engraving  illustrates  the  manner  of  carrying  the  board. 
The  side  toward  the  carriage  can  be  ornamented  with 
engravings,  patriotic  mottoes,  or  otherwise  rendered  beau- 
tiful to  the  sight  of  the  driver.  The  following  cut  illus- 
trates the  real  value  of  the  device.  As  soon  as  the  horse 
passes  from  under  control  the  ropes 
numbered  a  and  h  are  pulled  by  the 
driver,  and  the  board  at 
once  falls  down  in  front 
of  the  flying  animal,  as 
shown.  He  has  to  bring  ' 
right  up,  and  his  aston- 
ishment is  only  equaled 
by  his  admiration. 

The  following  are  se- 
lected from  the   numerous 
patentee  : 


Put  to  Use. 

testimonials  received  by  the 


"  COTXRIER-JOITRNAL    OFFICE,    .TunC    18,    1875. 

M.  Quad — Dear  Sir — Just  tried  one  of  your  patent  Run- 
away Preventives.  ITever  saw  anything  like  it  in  Europe, 
Asia  or  Africa.  If  I  owned  the  Erie  canal  I'd  trade  every 
rod  of  it  for  a  Preventive,  and  then  feel  as  if  I  owed  you 

ten  thousand  dollars. 

WATTERSON." 


And  gaze  at  this : 

"Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  .Tunc  5,  1S75. 
I  snuffed  at  your  Preventive  when  I  first  saw 


M.  Quad 

it,  but  the  events  of  the  last  hour  have  convinced  me  that 
it  is  the  biggest  thing  on  earth.  The  life  of  my  mother- 
in-law  would  have  been  sacrificed  but  for  your  genius. 


89-i  RECOMMENDATORY. 

Enclosed  find  $25,  the  paltry  price  of  the  Preventive,  and 

ship  me  one  with  the  motto  'Be  kind  to  thy  sister'  on 

the  back  side. 

Tour  grateful  friend, 

GEO.  D.  BAYARD." 

And  behold  the  following : 

"MrsriNG  Journal  Office,         ) 
Marquette,  July  1,  '75.  ) 

Honored  Sir — Had  a  horse — habit  running  away — killed 

three  wives — borrowed  one  of  your  Preventives — worked 

like  a  charm — stopped  him  like  a  bullet — felt  so  mean 

over  it  that  he  couldn't  eat  his  rations  for  three  days — bless 

you — send  me  sixteen  by  express  at  once. 

Ever  of  thee, 

SWINEFORD." 

A  voice  from  Ohio  says : 

"Dayton,  July  11,  1875. 

Dear  Sir — I  have  been  run  away  with  1,368  times,  but 
the  end  has  come.  Your  '  Preventive '  is  bound  to  pro- 
duce a  revolution  in  horse  society.  If  you  have  not  selected 
an  agent  for  this  State  yet,  please  give  me  your  best  terms. 
It  was  only  three  weeks  ago  that  twelve  of  my  relatives, 
coming  to  spend  the  summer  with  me,  were  run  away  with 
and  killed.  Unless  you  have  had  twelve  dear  relatives 
mashed  up  at  once  you  cannot  imagine  my  feelings. 

Very  truly, 

THE  MAYOR." 

Just  one  more — from  Indiana : 

"Times  Office,  Indianapolis,  July  4th. 

Glorious  (lay !  whoop  !  Liberty  and  your  '  Preventive ' 
forever !  Ninety-nine  years  ago  to-day  we  whipped  the 
British  at  Bunker  Hill,  and  our  glorious  independence  was 
forever  secured !  Have  tried  your  patent ;  worked  like  a 
school  ma'am  sliding  off  a  bench  !  Horse  went  right  home 
and  died  of  a  broken  heart.  Send  me  two  right  away, 
and  give  me  a  State  right  if  you  can. 

Hastily,  THE  HEAD  EDITOR." 


PARTIALITY. 


ORTU^ATELY,  the  rest  of  the  people  were 
"  ^  at  dinner,  and  I  was  nearly  ready  to  go,  when 
the  stranger  came  up  stairs.  He  wanted  to 
know  if  I  was  the  head  editor,  I  couldn't  tell 
a  lie,  and  I  replied  that  I  was  not;  explained 
to  him  that  I  was  only  a  humble  member  of  the  editorial 
staff,  having  no  particular  routine  work,  but  expected  to 
write  local,  pick  up  marine,  write  obituary  poetry,  clip 
from  agricultural  papers  and  put  heads  on  telegraph 
matter. 

He  was  going   away  without  further  remark,  but   lie 
turned  as  he  reached  the  head  of  the  stairs,  came  back, 
and  in  an  indignant  voice  he  said : 
"  I'm  going  to  stop  my  paper  !" 
"No!" 

"  Yes,  I  am  !" 
"  I  wouldn't  do  it." 

"  I  vdW,  I  will !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  I've  taken  this  paper 
for  fifteen  years,  but  I'm  going  to  stop  it  now !" 
"  For  why  ?" 

"For   why?     Because   you   show   partiality!     I   don't 
claim  to  be  better'n  anybody  else,  but  I'm  just  as  good." 
395 


196 


POLITICIANS    EXCEPTED. 


"  Of  course  j^ou  are.  Has  this  paper  said  that  you 
weren't  ?" 

"  Not  exactly — not  in  so  many  words." 

"  Well,  now,  we  try  to  do  right  by  everybody  excepting 
politicians.  If  we  have  injured  you  in  any  manner  state 
your  case  and  we'll  make  it  right.  It  isn't  fair  for  you  to 
come  in  here  and  stop  your  paper  on  the  eve  of  a  Presi- 
dential election,  and  just  as  we  are  recovering  from  a  great 
panic." 


He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then,  opening  a  copy  of 
the  paper  a  week  old,  he  pointed  to  a  local  article,  and 
continued : 

"  You  see  that,  don't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  do ;  it  is  a  local  item  how  John  Jones'  boy 
got  hooked  by  a  cow." 

"  And  there's  fourteen  lines  of  it !" 


THIN    PROVOCATION.  397 

"  One — three — seven — eleven — yes,  sir,  just  fourteen." 

"And  you  see  this?"  he  inquired,  as  he  laid  the  morn- 
ing paper  on  the  desk  and  pointed  to  a  local  item. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  that  is  an  item  about  how  Thomas  Thomp- 
son's boy  got  kicked  by  a  mule." 

"  And  there's  only  ten  lines  in  it !" 

"  One — four — seven — ten — ;just  ten." 

"  Well,  sir,  that  was  m\j  boy,  and  I  want  to  know  if  he 
isn't  every  bit  and  grain  as  good  as  Jones'  boy !  I  want 
to  know  if  Jones,  who  never  took  this  paper  in  his  life,  is 
any  better  than  I  am !  If  that's  the  way  you  run  your 
paper,  I'm  going  to  stop  mine  !  My  bo}'  got  hurt  twice  as 
hard  as  his  boy,  and  yet  you  give  his  boy /oi<r  lines  the  most!" 

I  tried  to  argue  with  him,  but  he  was  obstinate  and 
ugly,  and  we  lost  his  subscription. 


THE  OLD  PIONEER. 


?0U  may  not  have  encountered  liim,  but  every  city  or 
village  over  twenty-five  years  old  lias  an  "  old  pio- 
neer." He  is  an  aged  man,  walks  with  a  cane,  has  a  bent 
back  and  scant  gray  locks,  and  he  is  entitled  to  the 
unbounded  respect  of  all  citizens. 

Many  little  privileges  are  accorded  the  "  old  pioneer." 
He  can  open  the  cheese-box  in  a  grocery  and  help  himself, 
hook  apples,  reach  over  for  peanuts,  have  the  head  of  the 
table  when  the  firemen  give  a  banquet,  and  if  he  crawls 
under  the  canvas  on  circus  day  none  of  the  circus-men 
strike  at  him  with  a  neck-yoke. 

And  if  the  "old  pioneer"  says  that  it's  going  to  be  a 
hard  winter,  a  soft  winter,  a  cool  summer  or  a  rainy  fall,  it 
would  be  like  entering  a  den  of  lions  for  one  to  rise  up 
and  dispute  him.  He  predicts  political  events,  prophesies 
revolutions,  remembers  all  about  how  the  Free  Masons 
killed  John  Morgan,  and  confidently  expects  a  column 
notice  in  the  local  papers  when  he  drops  off". 

I  met  one  of  the  old  fellows  the  other  day  on  the  cars. 
He  assured  me  that  riding  on  the  cars  was  far  more  pleas- 
ant than  making  a  journey  on  horseback,  and  he  said  that 
the  country  had  improved  some  since  he  used  to  carry  the 
mail  between  New  York  and  Chicago.  I  was  looking 
right  at  him,  but  he  never  blushed  as  he  said  that  he  used 
to  make  the  round  trip  on  horseback  in  five  days.  I  was 
wondering  how  he  could  have  done  it  when  he  went  on  to 
398 


GOODNESS    GRACIOUS  ! 


399 


say  that  !N"ew  York  contained  only  cloven  houses,  and 
Chicago  only  four,  at  the  time  he  acted  as  mail-carrier.  I 
remarked  that  the  mails  must  have  been  light  in  those 
early  days,  when  he  replied : 

"  Light !  why  bless  you,  my  son,  I  never  had  less  than 

fourteen  full  mail-bags,  and  sometimes  as  high  as  twenty  !" 

I  expected  to  see  him  struck  dead  in  his  seat,  but  greatly 

to  my  surprise  he  continued  to  live  right  on,  the  same  as 

if  he  had  never  told  a  lie. 

"  Ever  have  any  fights  with  the  Indians  in  those  early 
days  ?"  I  finally  inquired. 

"  Injun  fights  !  Well,  I  should  say  I  had  a  few — ha ! 
ha !  ha !  I  wish  you  could  go  home  with  me  to  old  Che- 
mung county.  I've  got  seven  dry- 
goods  boxes  filled  with  Indian  top- 
knots— seven  boxes  left,  and  I've 
been  making  horse -blankets  and 
door-mats  out  of  my  pile  for  over 
forty  years !" 
"  Is  it  possible  !" 

"  Yes,  it  is.  I  don't  say  this  to 
brag,  but  you  asked  me  a  plain  ques- 
tion and  I  answered  it.  I  suppose  I 
//  killed  11,873  Indians  during  my 
early  life,  though  I  won't  say  tliat 
these  are  the  exact  figures.  It  might 
have  been  11,874,  or  only  11,872—1 
am  getting  old  and  can't  remember 

Old  Pioneer.  ^^tCS  VCry  WCll." 

"  Ever  see  George  AVashington  ?"  I  asked. 
"See    George  Washington!"    he    echoed — "why,    he 
boarded  in  my  family  over  four  years !" 
"  He  did !" 
"Yes,  he  did." 


400 


GRACIOUS    GOODNESS  I 


"  When  was  that  ?" 

"  Let's  see  !  "Well,  I  don't  remember  just  when  it  was, 
only  I  know  it  was  quite  a  while  ago.  Yes,  George 
boarded  with  me,  and  I've  got  a  bill  of  forty  dollars  some- 
where against  him  now.  lie  was  a  little  hard  up  for  cash 
when  he  left  us." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  William  Penn  ?"  I  asked  after  awhile. 

"BillPenn!  ha!  ha!  why, 
I  wish  I  had  as  many  dollars 
as  the  number  of  times  Bill 
and  I  have  slid  down  hill 
together !  His  father  lived 
in  part  of  our  house  for 
eight  years,  and  Bill  and  I 
were  like  brothers.  I  could 
lick  him,  and  he  knew  it, 
but  we  never  even  had  a 
cross  word  between  us. 
Poor  Bill!  When  I  read 
about  his  being  blown  up  on 
a  steamboat  I  said  to  myself 
that  I'd  rather  have  lost  a 
brother." 

I  waited  a  good  while  and 
then  inquired : 

"  Were  you  in  the  Revo- 
lutionary war  ?" 

"  The  Revolutionary  war! 
why,  you  must  take  me  for 
a  boy  !"  he  replied.    "  Why, 


The  Patriot  Army. 


I  was  the  first  man  to 


jme 


There  was  a  week  when  the  Patriots  didn't  have  any  army 
but  me,  and  there  was  so  much  fighting  and  marching  that 
I  almost  got  discouraged." 


NEVER   SAAV   COLUMBUS  !  401 

"  Then  you  must  have  met  General  Lafaj-ette  ?" 

"  General  Lalayette  !  Why,  on  the  morning  of  the  bat- 
tle of  Bunker  Hill,  Washington,  Lafayette,  Bill  Penn  and 
myself  were  playing  a  four-handed  game  of  euchre  in  an 
old  barn  just  outside  of  Boston.  Lafayette  was  killed  just 
as  he  was  dealing  the  cards  !" 

"  I  thought  he  went  back  to  France  and  died." 

"  No,  sir." 

"  But  history  says  so." 

"  I  don't  care  a  plum  for  history,  young  man  !  Didn't 
his  blood  scatter  all  over  me,  and  weren't  his  last  words 
addressed  to  me  !    I  guess  I  know  as  much  as  any  history." 

"  "What  were  his  last  words  ?" 

"Last  words?  Well,  sir,  he  didn't  have  time  to  say 
much.  A  cannon  ball  struck  him  in  the  body,  and  all  he 
said  was  '  Don't  give  up  the  ship  !'  Poor  Laif !  He  was  a 
little  conceited,  but  when  he  borrowed  a  dollar  of  you  it 
was  certain  to  come  back." 

"  You  never  saw  Christopher  Columbus,  did  you  ?"  I 
finally  asked,  determined  to  wind  him  up. 

He  was  staggered  for  a  moment,  but  then  recovererl  and 
answered  : 

"  Christopher  Co-lum-bus  !  Well,  no,  I  never  did.  My 
brother  used  to  talk  a  good  deal  about  Chris,  but  I  never 
happened  to  see  him.  They  say  he  didn't  amount  to  much, 
after  all — used  to  get  tight  on  election  day,  kept  a  fighting- 
dog  and  a  race-horse,  and  was  always  blowing  around  what 
he  could  do.  I  was  always  careful  of  my  character,  and 
they  can't  say  of  me  that  I  ever  associated  with  low  folks." 
z 


GETTING  THE  HAIR  CUT. 


LL  of  a  sudden  he  said  I  had  better  have  my 
•hair  cut,  at  the  same  time  running  his 
hand  up  and  down  my  neck,  over  my 
ears  and  around  the  crown  of  my  head. 
I  said  I  guessed  I  wouldn't ;  I  would 
come  in  next  day ;  I  was  in  a  hurry. 
"  Pretty  long,"  he  continued,  feel- 
ing of  my  head  again. 
I  said  I  always  wore  my  hair  long,  and  he  shut  up  for  a 
minute  or  two  while  he  lathered  my  face  and  strapped  his 
razor.     Then  he  drew  a  deep  sigh  and  whispered : 
"  Guess  you'd  better  have  it  cut." 

I  replied  that  I  never  had  my  hair  cut — always  wore  it 
hanging  down  to  my  boots,  but  he  looked  so  sad  and  dis- 
appointed that  I  felt  ashamed  of  myself.  He  might  be  a 
man  with  a  large  family  depending  on  him,  and  perhaps 
his  very  bread  depending  on  my  having  my  hair  cut. 
Perhaps  he  had  his  house  and  lot  mortgaged,  and  the  last 
payment  was  due  that  day,  and  if  I  didn't  get  my  hair  cut 
his  family  would  be  turned  out  of  doors.  After  a  little 
time  I  meekly  remarked  that  he  might  cut  away. 

The  smile  which  covered  his  face  was  reward  enough  for 
a  poor  man  like  me.  He  drew  an  apron  around  me,  dug 
his  fingers  down  behind  my  collar,  gave  my  head  seven  or 
eight  preparatory  knocks,  and  then  commenced — snip ! 
snip  !  comb  !  brush !  snip  ! 

402 


AN    INDIKECT    REPLY. 


403 


He  ordered  me  to  sit  up  ;i  little  straigliter.  Thou  he 
ordered  me  to  hold  my  head  to  the  left.  Then  he  ran  an 
old  brass-pointed  comb  through  my  hair,  plowing  fur- 
rows in  my  scalp,  and  then  he  remarked  that  I  had  a  good 
deal  of  dandruff  in  my  hair, 

"  It's  a  base  lie  !*'  I  exclaimed,  for  I  knew  he  was  getting 
around  to  ask  about  a  shampoo. 

He  made  no  reply — that  is,  no  direct  reply — but  as  an 
indirect  reply  he  snipped  off  a  piece  of  my  ear.  He  said 
he  didn't  mean  to  do  it ;  and  in  another  indirect  way  he 
complimented  me  with  having  more  cars  than  hair. 


He  finally  neared  the  end — not  the  end  of  the  hair,  but 
the  end  of  his  job.  He  cuffed  my  head  to  the  right,  ran 
his  hand  down  my  neck  and  his  old  shears  over  my  ear, 
as  the  last  finishing  strokes,  and  then  he  paused.  I  knew 
what  was  coming.  He  ran  his  hand  over  my  head,  jumped 
back  and  shouted : 

"Grashus!" 

He  thought  I  would  be  startled,  but  I  knew  his  tricks. 
I  sat  perfectly  still,  and  he  said  to  himself: 

"  Dandruff"— guess  there  is  I" 


404  SOMETHING   SO    SAD. 

I  wasn't  going  to  let  him  shampoo  me,  but  there  was 
something  so  sad  and  melancholy  in  his  voice  as  he  whis- 
pered that  word  "  dandruff,"  that  I  felt  my  heart  throb 
with  pity. 

I  got  down  and  told  him  to  go  ahead  with  his  soapsuds, 
and  he  went.  He  bent  me  over  the  sink,  dashed  on  water, 
rubbed  on  soap,  twisted  my  hair  up  and  down,  filled  my 
eyes  and  ears,  enveloped  my  head  in  a  crash  towel,  and 
then  said  : 

"You  look  a  thousand  dollars  better." 

He  knew  my  mouth  was  full  of  suds  and  my  eyes  full 
of  soap  bubbles,  so  that  I  couldn't  reply,  and  he  went  on  : 

"  There  !  I'll  warrant  you  feel  a  million  dollars  better." 

He  mopped  me  off,  drew  that  old  brass  comb  over  my 
tender  scalp,  rapped  me  with  the  brush,  and  softly 
whispered : 

"You  look  like  a  new  man — forty-five  cents,  if  you 
please." 


#-4^/1^^^ 


THE  FAT  MAN  IN  CHICAGO. 


EERILY  wliistling,  he  came  into  the 
ladies'  sitting-room  of  the  Chicago 
depot,  as  I  waited  there  one  night. 
He  was  a  fat  man,  pretty  well  along  in 
years,  and  one  could  see  that  he  was 
good-hearted.  He  placed  his  travel- 
ing-bag on  a  bench,  took  a  chain  and 
padlock  from  his  pocket,  and,  as  he 
secured  the  bag  to  the  seat,  he  smiled 
blandly  and  said : 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  traveling — oh,  no !  I 
have  to  sit  right  down  and  hang  on  to  my  baggage,  to  keep 
some  one  from  stealing  it,  don't  I?" 

And  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  arms  folded 
across  his  breast,  and  the  self-satisfied  look  on  his  fat  face 
was  worth  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  cash.  When  we  had 
admired  him  he  sat  down  beside  an  old  lady  who  was  en 
route  for  Cleveland,  and  inquired : 

"  Did  you  bring  along  any  peppermint  essence  ?" 
She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  smile  in  her  eyes,  and  he 
continued  : 

"  Old  women  are  more  affected  by  change  of  water  than 
any  one  else,  and  are  also  apt  to  have  colic  while  travel- 
ing.    You  should  never  have  left  home  without  a  phial  of 

peppermint  essence." 

405 


406  "YES,    SIR." 

She  still  refused  to  reply,  and  after  a  time  he  remarked : 
"  Well,  I  hope  you'll  behave  yourself  and  keep  out  of 
bad  company." 

She  grabbed  up  her  parcels  and  crossed  the  room  in  a 
hurry,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  notice 
her  actions.  A  boy  about  five  years 
old  was  running  around  the  room,  and 
the  fat  man  coaxed  the  child  to  his 
knee  by  displaying  an  orange,  sud- 
denly replaced  the  orange  in  his 
pocket,  and,  lifting  the  boy  up,  he  said: 
No  Essence.  "  You  look  like  a  uice  boy,  and  I 

hope  you'll  get  through  all  right.  Look  out  for  pick- 
pockets, my  son — I've  seen  a  dozen  of  the  rascals  around 
here  since  I  got  off  the  Quincy  train." 

The  boy  sought  to  release  himself,  and,  as  he  dropped 
to  the  floor,  the  fat  man  continued  : 

"  You  are  not  as  old  as  I  am,  and  I  want  to  give  you  a 
bit  of  advice:  I^ever  bet  on  another  man's  game; 
you're  sure  to  lose  if  you  do." 

The  boy  ran  back  to  his  mother,  and  the  fat  man  walked 
up  to  the  ticket  window  and  asked  : 

"  What  time  does  the  train  leave  for  Detroit?" 

"  Mne  o'clock." 

"  That  clock  is  right,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  are  sure  of  it?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  at  nine  o'clock  by  this  clock  the  train  starts  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  The  Detroit  train  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Goes  right  through  to  Detroit  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 


AN    OLD    TKAVELER.  407 

"  l!^o  change  of  cars  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Some  folks  are  always  behind  time,  or  take  the  wrong 
train,  or  worry  themselves  into  a  sweat,"  remarked  the  fat 
man,  as  he  came  over  to  me,  "  bnt  I  never  have  any  trouble, 
and  I'd  like  to  see  the  ticket  agent  who  dare  sass  me !" 

"  You  are  an  old  traveler,  I  see,"^  I  replied. 

"Old  traveler? — no,  I  never  was  away  from  home 
before — oh,  no  !" 

And  he  pulled  open  his  coat,  showed  me  that  his  breast- 
pocket was  tightly  pinned  up  with  a  darning-needle,  and 
then  reached  down  behind  his  collar  and  fished  up  his  rail- 
road ticket. 

"  I'm  a  country  chicken  !"  he  continued,  smiling  blandly, 
"and  I  ought  to  have  a  blind  man  along  to  take  care 
of  mQ !" 

Catching  sight  of  a  man  whose  black  clothes  and  white 
necktie  proclaimed  him  a  minister,  the  fat  man  crossed 
over  and  slapped  him  on  the  back,  and  said  : 

"  Hello  I  my  friend — going  east  ?" 

"I  am!"  exclaimed  the  startled  stranger. 

"Minister  of  the  Gospel,  I  suppose  ?"  queried  the  fat  man. 

"  Yes." 

"  "Well,  that's  a  good  trade,  and  I  hope  you'll  do  well, 
though  just  now  money  is  tight  and  wages  are  low.  I've 
probably  traveled  ten  miles  to  your  one,  and  my  advice  to 
you  is  not  to  have  anything  to  do  with  bunko  men.  You 
may  think  yourself  pretty  sharp,  but  they'll  beat  you  every 
time.  Faro  is  a  pretty  square  game,  and  poker  has  charms, 
but  let  'em  all  alone  !" 

The  minister  had  not  recovered  from  his  astonishment 
when  the  fat  man  slid  over  and  sat  down  beside  a  young 
lady,  whose  satchels  and  bundles  were  piled  up  in  front  of 
her  like  a  line  of  defense. 


408 


COULD,    BUT   wouldn't. 


"All  alone,  I  suppose  ?"  he  queried,  as  lie  puslied  the 
bundles  around  with  his  foot. 
"  Y — yes,"  she  gasped. 

"  I  knew  it  the  moment  I  set  eyes  on  you ;  and,  if  I  were 
a  mind  to,  I  could  pick  your  pocket,  steal  your  baggage, 
abduct  you  and  carry  you  off  to  some  unknown  island  in 

the  ocean;  but  Tm  not 
that  kind  of  a  man — 
no,  sir !" 

She  shrank  away,  a 
frightened  look  in  her 
C3'es,and  he  continued: 
"  You  need  have  no 
fear  of  me.  I  came 
over  here  to  drop  you 
a  word  or  so  of  advice. 
There's  lots  of  three- 
card-monte  men  travel- 
ing on  these  roads,  and 
3-0U  want  to  look  out 
Ail  Alone.  for  'cm.     It's  amazing 

how  they  sling  those  cards  around,  and  if  you  bet  you  are 
sure  to  lose.  If  I  were  you  I  wouldn't  have  anj-thing  to 
do  with  'em — just  cut  'em  cold  !" 

He  walked  up  and  down  again  until  he  caught  sight  of 
a  portly  woman,  and  he  dropped  down  beside  her  and 
remarked : 

"  Madam,  I'm  a  stranger  to  you,  but  I  want  to  give  you 
a  friendly  word  of  warning.  You  are  fat,  madam — very 
fat,  and,  if  you  take  my  advice,  you'll  never  jump  off  the 
cars  while  they  are  running  at  full  speed!" 

She  was  going  to  pour  out  her  wrath  on  him,  but  he  got 
away  and  went  out  doors,  and  I  did  not  see  him  again 
until  just  as  the  passengers  were  boarding  the  train.    Then 


SOLICITS    A   LIFT. 


409 


I  heard  his  voice  going  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd,  and 
elbowed  my  way  in  to  sec  liim  pointing  to  a  great  knife- 
X--  ^  wound   over   his    breast-pocket, 

through  which  his  wallet  had 
been  drawn.  He  likewise  held 
up  to  view  the  traveling-bag 
which  he  had  cutely  chained  to 
the  scat.  Some  one  had  cut  a 
hole  in  it  and  removed  the  con- 
tents. 

As  the  whistle  blew  he  low- 
ered the  satchel,  turned  around 
and  humbly  said : 

"  Gentlemen,  stand  clear  and 
let  that  man  with  the  stoffa  boots 


A  "Wabnino. 

come  forward  and  '  lift '  this  old  traveler- 
to  the  platform !" 


-lift  him  right  on 


TRUE  LOVE. 


SAW  them — they  were  going  down  from 
Saginaw  on  the  boat,  and  as  a  swell  rocked 
the  old  steamer  the  young  lady 
screamed  out  and  clawed  around 
until  she  seized  the  young  man's 
arm. 

"  Piller  yer  head  right  here, 
Susan  !"  he  exclaimed,  patting  his 
heart  with  one  hand  and  slipping 
the  other  around  her  waist.  "  When  a  feller  loves  a  girl 
as  I  love  you,  he  could  take  her  on  his  back  and  swim 
eighteen  miles  in  a  bee-line,  and  then  go  home  and  hoe 
corn  till  sundown !  Piller  yer  head  right  here,  my  love, 
and  if  she  rains  and  hails  and  thunders  blue  blazes,  don't 
you  even  squeal  one  squeal  I" 

"  Are  we  safe  ?"  she  tremblingly  inquired. 
"  Safe  as  a  cow  tied  to  a  brick  wall  eighteen  feet  thick, 
my  love  !  Just  lean  right  over  here,  shet  your  pearly  eyes, 
and  feel  as  contented  as  if  you  sot  on  the  top  rail  of  the 
pastur'  fence  waitin'  for  a  tin  peddler  to  arrove  in  sight !" 
She  "  pillered,"  and  everybody  remarked  that  he  looked 
like  a  hero. 

410 


YE  OLD  SCHOOLMASTER. 


f'M  sorry,  now,  that  wc  boys  used  to  vex  and  worry 
him,  for  he's  been  in  his  grave  these  many  years,  and 
perhaps  our  doings  hastened  his  end. 
I  can  remember  his  bald  head,  gray  side-whiskers, 
wrinkled  face  and  cat-like  gait.  I  used  to  wish  that  I  was 
"  as  big  a  man  "  as  schoolmaster  Ray,  but  now  I  can  look 
back  and  see  how  dreary  his  life  must  have  been,  mixed 
up  with  obstinate  scholars,  log  school-houses,  one-horse 
geographies,  primary  arithmetics,  and  §11  per  month. 


rill 


iM^i-i'SfeS^lf*^] 


Onk  Way. 

Many  and  many  a  time  I  looked  over  the  top  of  my 

desk,  doubled  my  fists,  and  vowed  that  I  would  maul  him 

to  a  jelly  the  very  moment  I  reached  man's  estate,  and  he 

secured  satisfaction  in  advance  by  thinking  up  and  admin- 

isterinsr  some  new  punishment. 
^  411 


412 


HIS   THEORY. 


Schoolmaster  Ray  argued  that  pupils  couldn't  acquire 
an  education  without  having  a  taste  of  the  sprout  now  and 
then,  and  this  theory  of  his  kept  all  the  boys'  backs  and  the 
girls'  ears  sore.  He  didn't  always  whip,  as  that  w^as  a  poor 
locality  for  sprouts,  and  some  of  us  would  burn  his  ferule 
as  often  as  he  made  one.  He  had  other  ways  of  admin- 
istering punishment,  and  they  were  original  ways. 

His  favorite  method,  during  the  warm  weather,  was  to 
throw  open  the  stove  door  and  oblige  a  boy  to  enter  the 
yawning  cavity,  sometimes  to  be  shut  up  there  for  hours. 
I've  sat  crooked  up  in  that  old  stove  and  registered  a 
bloody  oath  that  I  would  borrow  a  shot  gun  and  commit 
murder  that  evening,  but  when  evening  came  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  try  old  Ray  once  more— just  once.  When  a 
pupil  was  too  long  to  get  into  the  stove  his  legs  had  to 
protrude  over  the  hearth,  and  the  old  man  would  now  and 
then  bring  his  switch  down  on  a  calf  in  order  to  start  a 
new  current  of  thought. 

Another  plan  of  his  was  to  sit  a  scholar  on  the  floor  and 
turn  the  empty  water  pail  over  his 
head.  If  the  lad  didn't  beg  for 
mercy  directly,  all  the  spare  books 
in  school  were  piled  on  top  of  the 
pail. 

I  can't  look  back  now  and  remem- 
ber that  we  were  such  bad  scholars. 
We  used  to  whisper,  take  sly  bites 
of  dinner,  skip  paper-wads  around 
and  cut  holes  in  the  seats,  but  I  do 
not  remember  that  any  of  the  boys 
Another  Way.     "^     were  malicious.     Schoolmastcr  Ray 
held  that  boys  and  girls  should  be  men  and  women,  and 
that  it  was  a  crime  for  a  pupil  to  be  absent-minded.     One 
day  he  explained  to  the  geography  class  what  a  peninsula 


"  IT    IS,   EII  ?"  413 

was,  told  ns  tlic  name  of  the  lon2;ost  river,  liio;liest  moun- 
tain, etc.,  and  also  named  over  the  presidents.  Next  day 
he  suddenly  asked  Alf.  Tyler : 

*'  A^Hiich  is  the  highest  mountain  in  the  world  ?" 

*'  The  gulf  of  Amazon  !"  promptly  replied  Alf. 

*'  It  is,  eh  ?"  sneered  the  old  man  as  he  slid  around  on 
his  heel. 

*'  Wliich  is  the  longest  river  ? 

*'  Andrew  Jackson  !"  called  out  Alf. 

Tyler  will  always  remember  what  followed.  The  old 
man  placed  two  chairs,  stretched  Alf.  across  them,  as 
shown  in  the  cut,  and  piled  weights  on  him  until  he  broke 
the  boy  nearly  in  two. 


The  Highest  Mountain. 

The  "  big  scholars  "  held  a  convention  on  the  road  home 
and  resolved  to  waylay  the  schoolmaster  and  murder  him 
in  cold  blood,  but  the  trouble  was  to  find  the  one  who 
would  do  the  killing. 

I've  got  scars  on  me  yet  which  old  Ray  inflicted  because 
I  couldn't  tell  him  the  diflference  between  a  bay  and  an 
isthmus,  and  if  he  were  living  I  sometimes  thiidc  I  would 
hunt  him  out  and  spike  him  to  a  wall  and  draw  hot  curry- 
combs across  him. 


UGLY  GREG. 


^@^._ 


HE  best  of  prisons  are  gloomy,  un- 
lovely places,  and  the  sunshine 
which  streams  over  the  walls  and 
filters  through  the  bars  seems  cold 
and  cheerless.  The  prisoners  are 
discouraged,  and  some  of  them  des- 
perate, feeling  as  if  every  man's 
hand  was  against  them,  and  the 
keepers  must  be  watchful,  distant 
and  determined.  Day  comes,  day  goes,  and  sometimes 
the  rugged  walls,  paved  floors  and  iron  bars  so  change  the 
nature  of  a  prisoner  that  his  mind  loses  all  good  thoughts. 
It  used  to  be  thus  in  all  prisons,  but  there  are  exceptions 
now.  At  the  Detroit  House  of  Correction,  a  year  or  so 
ago,  the  high  whitewashed  walls  of  the  corridors  were 
furnished  with  brackets  and  flower  pots  to  relieve'  the 
monotony  and  take  away  some  of  the  gloom.  One  would 
scarcely  think  that  the  rough  looking,  wicked  men  sent 
there  for  robbery,  burglary,  arson  and  graver  crimes,  would 
have  cared  for  the  change,  yet  they  gladly  welcomed  it. 
A  rose,  or  geranium,  or  tulip,  or  pink,  seemed  to  bring 
liberty  and  sunshine  a  little  nearer,  and  to  drive  the  evil 
out  of  their  hearts,  and  it  was  a  strange  sight  to  see  hard- 
ened criminals  watering  and  nourishing  the  tender  plants 
and  watching  their  daily  growth. 
414 


MORE    rOWERFUL    THAN    MAN.  415. 

Two  or  three  months  before  the  brackets  were  hung  up 
a  prisoner  came  from  one  of  the  Territories — an  old,  sullen- 
looking,  bad  tempered  man,  convicted  of  robbing  the 
mails.  They  called  him  "  Greg,"  as  short  for  Gregory, 
and  it  wasn't  long  before  they  made  it  "  Ugly  Greg."  He 
was  ugly.  He  refused  to  work,  cared  nothing  for  rules 
and  regulations,  and  twenty-eight  days  of  his  first  month 
were  spent  in  the  "  solitary  "  for  bad  behavior.  He  was 
exi^ostulated  ^\ath,  threatened  and  punished,  but  he  had  a 
will  as  hard  as  iron.  He  hadn't  a  friend  in  the  prison,  and 
the  knowledge  of  it  seemed  to  make  him  more  ugly  and 
desperate.  When  the  brackets  w^ere  hung  up  there  was 
one  to  spare,  and  it  was  placed  near  the  door  of  Ugly 
Greg's  cell  until  another  spot  could  be  found.  iSTo  one 
had  any  hope  that  the  old  man's  heart  could  be  softened, 
and  some  said  he  would  dash  the  flow^er  pot  to  the  floor. 

When  he  came  in  from  the  shops  his  face  expressed  sur- 
prise at  siglit  of  the  little  green  rose  bush  so  close  to  the 
door  of  his  cell.  He  scented  it,  carefully  placed  it  back, 
and  it  was  noticed  that  the  hard  lines  melted  out  of  his 
face  for  a  time,  ^o  one  said  anything  to  him,  but  the 
next  morning  before  he  w^ent  to  work  he  carefully  watered 
the  rose,  and  his  eyes  lost  something  of  their  sullen  look. 
"Would  you  believe  that  the  little  rose  bush  proved  more 
powerful  than  all  the  arguments  and  threats  of  the  keep- 
ers ?  It  did,  strangely  enough.  As  the  days  went  by  the 
old  man  lost  his  obstinacy  and  his  gloominess,  and  he 
obeyed  orders  as  well  and  cheerfully  as  the  best  man  in 
prison.  His  face  took  on  a  new^  look,  his  whole  bearing 
changed,  and  the  keepers  looked  at  him  and  wondered  if 
he  could  be  the  man  Greg  of  four  or  five  months  before. 
He  watched  the  rose  as  a  mother  would  watch  a  child,  and 
it  came  to  be  understood  that  it  was  his.  While  some  of 
the  other  flowers  died  from  want  of  care,  the  rose  tree 


.416 


THE    ROSE    BLOSSOM. 


grew  and  thrived  and  made  the  old  man  proud.  He  carried 
it  into  his  cell  at  night  and  replaced  it  in  the  morning,  and 
sometimes  he  would  talk  to  it  as  if  it  were  a  human  being. 
Its  presence  opened  his  lonesome  heart  and  planted  good 
seed  there,  and  from  the  day  the  bracket  was  hung  up  no 
keeper  had  the  least  trouble  with  Ugly  Greg. 

A  few  weeks  ago  he  was  taken  sick,  and  when  he  went 
to  the  hospital  the  rose  tree  went  with  him,  and  was  placed 
where  the  warm  sun  could  give  it  the  nourishment  it 
needed.  After  a  day  or  two  it  was  hoped  that  the  old  man 
would  get  better,  but  he  kept  sinking  and  growing  feebler. 
So  long  as  his  eyes  were  open  he  would  watch  the  rose, 
and  when  he  slept  he  seemed  to  dream  of  it.  One  day 
when  the  nurse  found  an  opening  bud  he  rejoiced  as  heartily 
as  if  his  pardon  papers  had  arrived.  The  bud  was  larger 
next  day,  and  the  rose  could  be  seen  bursting  through. 
The  flower  pot  was  placed  on  the  bed,  near  the  old  man's 
face,  that  he  might  watch  the  bud  blossom  into  a  rose,  and 
he  Avas  so  quiet  that  the  nurse  did  not  approach  him  again 
for  hours.  The  warm  spring  sun  glided  in  through  the 
bars  and  kissed  the  opening  bud,  and  then  fell  off  in 
showers  over  the  old  man's  pale  face,  erasing  every  line  of 
guilt  and  ugliness  which  had  ever  been  raised. 

At  noon  the  nurse  saw  that  the  rose  had  blossomed,  and 
she  went  over  and  whispered  in  the  old  man's  ear  : 

"  Greg — Greg — the  rose  has  blossomed — wake  up." 


He  did  not  move.     She  felt  his  cheek,  and  it  was  cold. 
Ugly  Greg  was  dead ! 


ITS    MISSION    ACCOMPLISHED. 


417 


One  baud  rested  under  his  gray  locks,  wliile  the  other 
clasped  the  flower  pot,  and  the  now-born  rose  bent  down 
until  it  almost  touched  his  cold  face.  His  life  had  gone 
out  just  when  his  weeks  of  weary  watching  for  a  blossom 
were  to  be  repaid ;  but  the  rose  tree's  mission  was 
accomplished. 
AA 


OUR  BOYS, 


VEN"  to  this  day  I  sometimes  fear  to 
indulge  in  a  hearty  laugh,  or  to  rip 
out  my  sentiments  of  surprise  or  dis- 
appointment, because  my  mother  was 
^y^  continually  pounding  the  idea  into  me 
J  that  I  was  born  for  a  preacher.    I  sup- 


^  pose  that  I  would  in  due  time  have 
become  a  preacher,  and  had  a  scandal  and  a  lawsuit,  but 
for  certain  domestic  accidents  which  changed  the  tenor  of 
life  all  around. 

But  I  was  no  exception.  There  was  Jackson ;  he  was 
continually  pegging  at  his  boy  Tom,  telling  the  lad  that  he 
was  born  for  a  judge,  and  there  were  years  and  years  in 
which  Tom  did  not  dare  to  slide  down  a  cellar  door  for 
fear  that  it  would  interfere  ^\'ith  his  becoming  a  judge.  If 
he  rolled  under  the  currant  bushes,  climbed  a  tree  or  sat 
in  the  dust,  his  mother  was  on  hand  to  call  out : 

"My  sakes!  Thomas  Jackson,  but  you'll  never  be  a 
judge  if  you  act  that  way !" 

They  mauled  that  boy  to  make  him  look  dignified, 
hurled  such  words  as  "  retainer,"  "  arraign,"  "  nolle  jjrosequi" 
and  "champerty"  at  him,  and  his  young  days  were  made  as 
dreary  as  life  on  a  canal  boat  in  January.  At  last  they 
took  him  to  a  lawyer's  office,  found  that  he  didn't  know 
anything,  and  abused  the  Lord  for  not  giving  him  the 
418 


AS   TUEY    TURNED    OUT. 


419 


genius  of  a  Patrick  Henry.  Thomas  was  driving  a  mule 
team  on  the  plains  when  I  met  him  last,  and  was  yelling : 
"Ho!  there,  Circuit  Court,  git  up  and  hump  yersolf! 
Haw  around  there.  Chancery — gee  up,  Exceptions — git 
around  thar\  old  Decision  in  Admiralty!" 

And  the  widow  Logan  commenced  at  her  boy  John  as 
soon  as  he  could  creep.  Some  traveling  swindler  felt  of 
his  head,  told  the  mother  that  the  boy  would  be  President 
of  the  United  States,  and  she  brought  him  up  to  believe 
it.  He  couldn't  go  out  and  tear  his  pants  like  other  boys ; 
was  never  allowed  to  fall  into  the  river  and  be  half  drowned; 
had  to  have  his  hair  combed  and  his  feet  washed,  and  the 
rest  of  us  boys  might  have  ofi'ered  him  $50  and  offered  in 
vain  to  get  him  to  keel  over  on  the  hay-mow.  He  never 
got  to  be  President  of  the  Uni- 
ted States.  The  nearest  he 
came  to  it  was  being  elected 
foreman  of  a  hose  company,  and 
he  didn't  hold  that  place  over 
four  weeks,  as  he  was  too  fat  to 
run.  His  mother  cried  wlicn 
Filmore  was  nominated,  saying 
that  her  son  John  had  been 
overlooked  from  sheer  jealousy, 
and  I  believe  she  grieved  her- 
self to  death.  John  now  does 
duty    in    a  wholesale    grocery 

Never  Keeled  Over.  hoUSC  aS  pOrtcr,  and    his  "  Cabi- 

net "  consists  of  the  engineer  and  the  man  who  'tends  the 
elevator.  There  are  no  foreign  complications  to  vex  his 
mind,  no  one  threatens  to  assassiiiuto  him,  and  he  can  we-ar 
one  sliirt  six  weeks  if  he  wants  to. 

And  Mr.  ^Vilkins  was  always  telling  his  boy  that  he 
must  save  his  pennies  if  he  would  be  rich,  and  making 


420 


THE    LAST    CASE. 


him  figure  simple  and  compound  interest,  and  warning 
Mm  to  pay  out  twelve  cents  for  a  shilling  when  he  paid 
a  debt,  and  to  demand  thirteen  cents  when  it  was  paid 
him.  That  hoy  went  through  life  without  knowing  the 
taste  of  peanuts,  ginger  beer,  liquorice-root,  lemonade, 
candy  or  figs.  Once  he  was  overcome  by  the  sight  of  some 
spruce  gum,  and  invested  a  cent,  but  the  licking  be 
received  when  he  reached  home  made  him  forever  sick  of 
the  sight  of  gum.  He  was  afraid  of  wearing  out  his  shoes, 
never  sat  down  in  the  road,  dared  not  sling  his  hat  around, 
and  we  used  to  pity  him. 

"  Save  !  save  !  save  !"  was  the  father's  cry,  and  the  boy 
grew  up  miserly  mean,  and  was  choked  to  death  while 
trying  to  get  a  little  more  meat  ofi:*  a  fish-bone. 

I've  got  a  boy  or  two  around  my  house,  and  I  say  to 
them  : 

"  Come,  be  doing  something !  Roll  over  in  the  road, 
wear  out  your  shoes,  tear  your  clothes,  hook  apples  and 
have  a  good  time,  for  by  and  by  you've  got  to  find  out  that 
life  is  a  battle  of  kicks  and  cufts,  and  you'll  want  pleasant 
memories  to  strengthen  you." 


PROFESSOR  OF  BOTANY. 


some  eastern  collesre. 


V  HEN  we  started  out  on  the  Powder 
^^  River  expedition,  under  Colonel 
Kidd,  a  long-haired,  long-geared 
old  chap,  who  had  been  hanging 
around  Laramie  for  some  time, 
got  leave  to  go  along. 

He  was  a  Professor  of  Botany, 
and  had  once  been  connected  with 
He  was,  I  believe,  out  west  on  his 
own  account  just  then,  and  he  was  far  more  enthusiastic 
in  his  search  for  specimens  than  we  were  to  hunt  Indians, 
having  had  our  fill  of  war  down  on  the  I'otomac. 

I  forget  the  Professor's  real  name,  but  the  boys  called 
him  "  Old  Bot."  "We  saw  that  there  was  a  heap  of  fun  in 
him,  and  we  were  glad  to  have  him  along.  He  dressed 
in  solemn  black,  wore  a  white  cravat,  spoke  slowly  and 
with  great  dignity,  and  it  was  "  'nuff  to  kill  a  feller  "  to 
see  him  cantering  along  with  the  column.  He  couldn't 
ride;  it  was  simply  hanging  on.  His  horse  was  tall, 
shadowy,  and  as  much  of  a  curiosity  as  his  master.  His 
gallop  was  a  sort  of  camel-motion,  and  when  under  full 
"  go  "  the  Professor  held  to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle  and 
pounded  from  side  to  side  and  up  and  down. 

The  old  man  did  not  know  what  fear  was.     The  Indians 
hovered  around  us  like  bees  over  a  sunflower,  but,  entirely 
421 


422  GOBBLED. 

unarmed,  he  would  ride  almost  upon  them  as  his  search 
for  specimens  led  him  away  from  the  column.  One  day 
when  one  of  the  red-skins  put  a  bullet  through  Old  Bot's 
hat,  the  Colonel  said  to  him  : 

"  These  devils  will  get  hold  of  you  some  day,  unless  you 
are  more  careful." 

"Is  it  possible  that  they  want  to  get  hold  of  me?'^ 
inquired  the  Professor  after  deep  thought.  "  What  can  be 
their  primary  object?" 

Half  a  dozen  of  us  were  detailed  to  scout  ahead  and  kill 
meat  for  the  party,  and  one  day  the  Professor  brought 
about  a  calamity.  A  score  of  red-skins  had  hovered 
around  us  all  the  forenoon,  the  scouts  being  about  two 
miles  in  advance  of  the  main  party.  At  noon,  as  we  halted 
to  rest  our  horses  and  bite  a  few  hard-tack.  Old  Bot 
mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away  after  specimens,  though 
warned  again  and  again.  He  wasn't 
half  a  mile  away  when  a  dozen  reds 
popped  out  of  a  grove  of  cottonwood 
and  gobbled  him,  retreating  to  the 
v^  grove  again.  As  one  man,  we 
g  charged  the  grove,  believing  that 
Specimens.  ^^-^^^  the  Indians  numbered  only  twelve 
or  fourteen,  and  feeling  ourselves  able  to  whip  the  pile. 

As  we  drew  near  they  gave  us  a  volley  which  emptied 
three  saddles,  and  the  other  three  of  us  were  prisoners 
before  the  fight  had  hardly  commenced.  As  I  was  being 
tied  I  saw  the  Professor  lying  on  the  grass  before  me,  arms 
fastened  behind  his  back.  His  face  wore  its  usual  profound 
look,  and  he  did  not  seem  in  the  least  frightened  or 
interested. 

"I  hope  you're  satisfied  now!"  I  yelled  at  him.  "We 
shall  all  be  burned  at  the  stake,  and  all  through  your  con- 
founded ignorance  and  pig-headed  obstinacy !" 


A    LACK    OF   COURTESY.  423 

"  Is — that — you,  cor-pu-rel  ?"  lie  drawled,  hardly  looking' 
up.  "  What  special  object  have  these  gentleiueii  in  view 
at  this  time  !" 

The  Indians  hurried  us  off  as  fast  as  they  could,  fearing 
a  rescue.  We  were  tied  to  our  saddles,  and  when  they 
were  binding  the  Professor  he  said  : 

"  I  assure  you,  gentlemen,  that  this  precaution  on  your 
part  is  entirely  thrown  away,  as  there  is  not  the  least  dan- 
ger of  my  falling  off  my  horse  !" 

Just  as  we  were  ready  to  leave  the  grove  his  eye  fell 
upon  a  new  specimen,  and  pointing  to  it,  Old  Bot  raised 
his  voice  and  inquired  : 

"  Will  any  of  you  people  have  the  kindness  to  pluck 
that  flower  for  me  ?" 

One  of  the  savages  brandished  his  tomahawk  in  a  threat- 
ening manner,  and  the  Professor  sank  back  in  his  saddle 
and  sighed : 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  total  lack  of  courtesy  out  here  in 
this  country !" 

It  happened  that  I  rode  almost  beside  him  as  we  left  the 
grove,  and  when  I  had  a  chance  I  inquired: 

"  Well,  Professor,  this  is  a  bad  affair  !" 

He  w^aited  two  or  three  minutes  and  then  replied : 

"  I  cannot  speak  advisedly  at  this  time,  but  I  assure  you 
that  I  will  take  the  matter  into  consideration  and  give 
you  my  opinion,  perhaps  this  evening!" 

I  was  provoked,  and  I  said  : 

"  You  are  a  blamed  old  idiot,  and  if  I'm  roasted  I  hope 
it  won't  occur  until  after  you  catch  it !" 

"I — would — not — speak — rashly!"  he  drawled,  after  a 
long  pause,  and  he  returned  to  his  work  of  looking  over 
the  prairie  after  new  flowers. 

After  a  ride  of  twenty  miles  we  halted  among  the  hills 
for  the  night.     The  Indians  discovered   that  they  had  a 


424  IN    THE    INTEREST    OP    SCIENCE. 

queer  character  in  Old  Bot,  and  they  commenced  to  draw 
him  out  as  soon  as  we  were  unbound.  He  wore  a  plug 
hat,  sadly  used  by  rain  and  sun,  and  one  of  them  knocked 
it  "sky-high"  with  the  handle  of  his  tomahawk.  The 
Professor  looked  at  him  a  long  time,  and  then  said : 

"  I  have  come  among  you  in  the  interests  of  science,  and 
I  sincerely  hope  that  you  will  seek  to  restrain  all  further 
desire  to  embarrass  and  annoy  me !" 


The  red-skins  roared  with  laughter,  and  one  of  them 
gave  Old  Bot  a  four-horse  kick  from  behind.  The  old  man 
turned  around,  a  look  of  amazement  on  his  face,  and 
inquired : 

"Will  you  explain  the  motive  which  actuated  you  in 
that  performance  ?" 

Another  Indian  kicked  him  from  the  other  side,  and 
turning  to  me  Old  Bot  asked : 

"  Cor-pu-rel,  is  not  this  an  unusual  proceeding,  consid- 
ering all  the  circumstances  ?" 


HE    BEGAN    TO    FEAR.  425 

AVc  had  to  laugli  Avith  tlie  Indians,  but  as  soon  as  they 
let  liim  alone  the  okl  man  began  plucking  flowers  and 
naming  them. 

We  were  tied  again  as  the  savages  made  ready  for  sleep, 
and  while  securing  us  one  of  the  Indians  kicked  the  sacred 
plug  hat  yards  high  into  the  air. 

"  I  cannot  commend  the  spirit  which  induces  such  famili- 
arity with  total  strangers  !"  drawled  the  Professor,  reaching 
out  for  the  hat. 

Stretched  out  on  the  grass,  his  long  hair  was  a  tempta- 
tion not  to  be  resisted,  and  one  of  the  Indians  placed  his 
foot  on  it. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Old  Bot,  "  is  it  possible  that  you  are 
not  aware  that  I  am  a  Professor  of  Botany — a  regular 
graduate  I" 

We  lay  side  by  side,  and  in  whispers  I  asked  him : 

"  Professor,  what  will  our  fate  be,  do  you  think  ?" 

"  I  have  not  yet  given  the  subject  the  careful  considera- 
tion which  it  deserves  I"  was  his  reply. 

Soon  after  midnight  we  were  rescued  by  a  party  of 
hunters,  but  the  Professor  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course, 
remarking : 

"  I  had  almost  begun  to  fear  that  my  researches  in  the 
interest  of  science  were  to  be  interrupted !" 


THEIR  SPELLING  BEE. 


KE  evening  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Coffin  sat  in 
their  cozy  back  parlor,  he  reading  his  paper 
and  she  knitting,  while  the  family  cat, 
stretched  out  under  the  stove,  sighed  and 
felt  sorry  for  cats  not  so  well  fixed.  It  was 
a  happy,  contented  household,  and  there 
was  love  in  his  heart  as  Mr.  Coffin  put  down 
the  newspaper  and  remarked : 

"  I  see  that  the  whole  country  is  becoming 
excited  about  spelling  schools." 

"  Well,  it's  good  to  know  how  to  spell," 
"=-  -^  replied  the  wife.  "  I  didn't  have  the  chance 
some  girls  had,  but  I  pride  myself  that  I  can  spell  almost 
any  word  that  comes  along." 

"I'll  see  about  that,"  he  laughed;  "come,  now,  spell 
buggy." 

"Humph!  that's  easy — b-u-g-g-y,  buggy,"  she  replied. 
"  Missed  the  first  time — ha !  ha !"  he  roared,  slapping 
his  leg. 

"  Not  much — that  was  right." 

"It  was,  eh?  I'd  like  to  see  anybody  get  two  g's  in 
buggy,  I  would." 

"  But  it  is  spelled  with  two  g's,  and  any  schoolboy  will 
tell  you  so,"  she  persisted. 

"Well,   I  know   a   durn   sight  better  than   that!"  he 
exclaimed,  striking  the  table  with  his  fist. 
426 


A    STORM    BREAKS. 


427 

I  know 


"  I  don't  care  what  you  know !"  she  squeaked 
there  are  two  g's  in  buggy.'' 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  I  have  forgotten  how  to 
spell  V  he  asked. 
"  It  looks  that  way." 

"  It  does,  eh  ?  Well,  I  want  you  and  all  your  relations 
to  understand  that  I  know  more  about  spelling  than  the 
whole  caboodle  of  you  strung  on  a  wire  !" 

"  And  I  want  you  to  understand,  Jonathan  Coffin,  that 
you  are  an  ignorant  old  blockhead  when  you  don't  put  two 
g's  in  the  word  buggy — yes,  you  are  !" 

"  Don't  you  talk  that  way  to  me !''  he  warned. 
"  And  don't  shake  your  fist  at  me !"  she  replied. 
"Who's  shaking  his  fist?" 
"You  were!" 

"  That's  a  lie— an  infernal  lie  !" 

"  Don't  call  me  a  liar,  you  old  bazaar !  I've  put  up  with 
your  meanness  for  forty  years 
past;  but  don't  call  me  a  liar, 
and  don't  lay  a  hand  on  me !" 
"  Do  you  want  a  divorce  ?" 
he  shouted,  springing  up ;  "  you 
can  go  now,  this  minute  !" 

"  Don't  spit  in  my  face — don't 
you  dare  do  it,  or  I'll  make  a 
dead  man  of  you  !"  she  warned. 
"  I  haven't  spit  in  your  old 
freckled  visage  yet,  but  I  may 
if  you  provoke  me  further  !" 

Not  Freckled.  "  Wlio's   got   a   frecklcd    facC, 

you  dilapidated  old  turkey-buzzard  ?" 

That  was  a  little  too  much.  He  made  a  motion  as  if  he 
would  strike,  and  she  seized  him  by  the  necktie.  Then 
he  reached  out  and  grabbed  her  right  ear  and  tried  to  lift 


428 


AND    SCATTERS    THINGS. 


her  off  her  feet,  but  she  twisted  up  on  the  necktie  till  his 
tongue  ran  out. 

"  Let  go  of  me,  you  old  fiend  !"  she  screamed. 
"  Git  down  on  yer  knees  and  beg  my  pardon,  you  old 
wildcat !"  he  replied. 

They  surged  and  swayed  and  struggled,  and  the  peace- 
ful cat  was  struck  by  the  overturning  table  and  had  her 
back  broken,  while  the  clock  fell  down  and  the  pictures 
danced  around.  The  woman  finally  shut  her  husband's 
air  ofl'  and  flopped  him,  and  as  she  bumped  his  head  up 
and  down  on  the  floor  and  scattered  his  gray  hairs,  she 
shouted : 

"  You  want  to  get  up  another  spel- 
ling school  with  me,  don't  you  ?" 

He  was  seen  limping  across  the 
yard  next  day,  with  a  stocking  pin- 
ned around  his  throat,  and  she  had 
court-i^l aster  on  her  nose  and  one 
finger  tied  up.  He  wore  the  look  of 
a  martyr,  while  she  had  the  bearing 
One  "g"  IN  It.  of  a  victor,  and  from  this  time  out 

"  buggy  "  will  be  spelled  with  two  g's  in  that  house. 


BARNABY'S  BOY  AND  OLD  JACK. 


Oil  can  never  tell  what  a  boy  of  ten  or  twelve  is 

going   to   like   or  dislike,  and  you   need   not 

attempt  to  find  a  theory  for  any  of  his  actions. 

One  day  when  a  beggar  knocked  at  Barna- 

by's  door  to  ask  for  old  clothes  Barnaby's  boy 

hit  him  in  the  ear  with  a  potato  and  ran  off  in 

high  glee.     The  very  next  day,  when  another 

beggar  opened  the  gate  the  boy  ran  in  and 

stole  his  father's  Sunday  boots  and  hurried 

the  old   alms-asker  oft'  with  them  before 

Mr.  Barnaby  could  get  to  the  door. 

A  week  after  that  the  Barnaby  boy  ran 
">  off  with  a  hand-organ  belonging  to  a  crip- 
pled woman,  and  he  and  his  companions  turned  the  crank 
with  such  vigor  that  "  Mollie  Darling  "  and  "  I'm  Sleepy 
Now  "  were  worn  down  to  soughs  and  sighs  before  the 
organ  was  restored.  •  Y"ou  wouldn't  think  the  boy  had  any 
tenderness  in  his  heart  or  any  respect  for  the  sorrows  and 
misfortunes  of  old  age  and  poverty.  His  father  thrashed 
him  for  stealing  fruit  and  being  out  nights,  and  his  mother 
cuffed  his  ears  for  his  coolness  in  appropriating  the  last 
piece  of  pie  and  for  carrying  pickled  peaches  in  his  pock- 
ets. And  yet  that  boy  developed  a  trait  which  more  than 
made  amends  for  all  his  young  misdeeds. 

One  day  as  he  was  preparing  to  lasso  a  neighbor's  dog, 
along  came  an  old  man,  having  a  wooden  leg,  a  blind  eye, 
429 


430  HE   TURNS    GUARDIAN. 

and  such  ragged  garments  that  it  was  a  wonder  how  he 
kept  the  patches  and  tatters  from  falling  off.  The  old 
man  was  weak  and  ill,  and  by  and  by  he  grasped  the 
fence  and  sank  down,  unable  to  proceed  another  yard. 
Ordinarily,  the  Barnaby  boy  would  have  thrown  fire 
crackers  at  the  old  man,  or  put  on  the  penstock  hose  and 
"  washed  him  out,"  but  just  then  he  was  eccentric.  Bend- 
ing over  the  old  man  he  asked : 

"  Uncle,  are  you  sick  ?" 

"I'm  dreadfully  taken,  my  lad,"  replied  the  old  veteran, 
"  and  I  fear  I'm  going  to  die  !" 

The  Barnaby  boy's  heart  opened  like  a  book,  and  he 
knelt  down  and  chafed  the  old  man's  hands,  and  smoothed 
the  scant  gray  locks  back  from  the  damp  and  wrinkled 
brow. 

"  Haven't  you  any  home  ?"  he  asked,  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  No  home — no  money — not  a  friend  on  earth!"  answered 
the  old  man. 

"  And  you  are  sick  ?" 

"  Fm  going  to  die,  my  lad !  I'm  old  and  broken  down, 
and  all  the  doctors  in  the  State  couldn't  keep  me  alive  a 
week !" 

The  boy  could  call  the  police,  and  the  old  man  would  be 
taken  to  the  hospital  or  sent  to  the  County  House.  He 
started  around  the  corner,  but  turning  back  he  asked  : 

"  Can  you  walk  down  the  alley  ?  May  I  take  care  of 
you?" 

Leaning  on  the  boy's  arm,  and  so  blind  that  he  could 
not  see  the  walls  and  shade  trees,  the  old  man  managed  to 
drag  himself  down  the  alley  to  Barnaby's  barn.  There 
was  no  horse  there,  and  the  boy  made  a  bed  of  hay  and 
carefully  laid  the  old  man  down.  Then  he  went  to  the 
house  after  food  and  drink,  and  his  guardianship  of  the 
dying  man  had  commenced. 


IN    THE    SHADOWS.  431 

"  God  bless  you,  boy !  That's  the  first  mouthful  of  food 
I've  tasted  in  two  days!"  said  the  old  man  as  he  ate  his 
bread. 

Any  boy  but  the  Barnaby  boy  would  have  straightway 
informed  his  parents,  or  at  least  the  boys  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, that  a  sick  man  was  in  the  barn,  but  he  was  the 
Barnaby  boy  and  he  dropped  no  hint.  The  food  and  drink 
rallied  the  old  man  a  little,  but  he  felt  that  his  end  was  at 
hand. 

"  I  fought  Mexicans,"  he  said  as  the  Barnaby  boy  wet 
his  parched  his  lips,  "  and  I  fought  Injuns,  and  this  is  my 
reward.  Old,  crippled,  ready  to  die,  I'm  passing  away  as 
if  I  was  a  wolf  instead  of  a  man  !" 

The  boy  had  faith  that  medicine  would  prolong  life,  and 
he  went  to  the  house  and  took  an  inventory  of  the  family 
supply.  A  bottle  of  castor  oil,  another  of  liniment,  and  a 
box  of  pills  were  all  that  he  could  get  hold  of,  and  he 
hastened  back  to  the  old  man.  Dying  as  he  was,  old 
Jack  smiled  as  the  boy  held  up  the  things. 

"  May  the  Lord  care  for  you  always,  my  child !"  he  said, 
"  but  my  hours  are  numbered.  All  you  can  do  is  to  sit  by 
me  and  give  me  a  bit  of  drink  now  and  then !" 

"When  night  came  the  Barnaby  boy  had  to  leave  the  old 
man  and  go  in  and  go  to  bed,  but  the  house  was  hardly 
still  before  he  dropped  from  the  window  and  returned  to 
watch  beside  his  patient  through  the  long  hours  of  night, 
darkness  around  him,  death  beside  him.  At  midnight, 
when  the  voice  of  the  solemn-sounding  bells  struck  oli"  the 
hour,  old  Jack  roused,  clasped  the  boy's  hand  with  tighter 
grip,  and  whispered : 

"  I've  been  praying  God  to  forgive  me,  and  perhaps  I'll 
go  to  Heaven  !  If  I  do,  I'll  tell  the  angels  the  first  thing 
when  I  get  there  liow  kind  you  have  been  to  me !" 

The  old  man  died  hard.     Day  came,  and  passed,  and  the 


432 


THE    RECORD    IN    HEAVEN. 


shadows  of  evening  gathered  again.  The  boy  hardly  left 
him.  No  one  came  near  the  barn,  and  no  one  suspected 
his  secret. 

"  My  hour  has  come !"  said  old  Jack  as  the  sun  went 
down.  "  I've  nothing  to  leave  you  as  a  reward,  but  the 
angel  will  make  a  long  mark  for  you  in  the  recording  book 
for  this!" 

The  shadows  gathered  faster  and  closer,  and  by  and  by 
the  boy  had  to  bend  over  the  white  face  to  see  it  at  all. 
His  tears  fell  on  the  wrinkled  cheek,  and  the  old  man 
reached  out  his  hand,  laid  it  on  the  boy's  head,  and 
whispered : 

"  Those  are  the  first  tears  shed  over  me  since  I  was  a 
child  and  had  a  mother!  I'm  going  now — I'm  blind — 
God  bless !" 

The  Barnaby  boy  laid  the  arms  down  beside  the  lifeless 
body,  and  went  quietly  to  the  house.  Standing  in  the 
door  he  said : 

"  Old  Jack  is  dead  in  the  barn  !" 

And  then  he  sat  down,  his  courage  gone  at  last,  and  he 
was  the  Barnaby  boy  no  longer. 


--mff 


^^m 


HIS   ONLY   ROMANCE. 


A  FEW  GREAT  MEN. 


T  is  sad  to  reflect  that  Henry  Clay  is  dead.    He's 
^       missed  a  good  many  chances  durina;  the  last 
_>^^  few  years  of  seUing  his  vote  to  some  steam- 
ship or  mining  company,  and  then  swearing 
by  the  horn  spoon  that  he  couldn't  remember 
how  he  came  by  that  paltry  check  of  $20,000. 
Henry  Clay  was  a  great  speaker,  but  when 
it  came  down  to  digging  a  woodchuck  out  of  its  hole  he 


Clay  is  Dead 

was  a  glaring  failure.  He  never  raffled  for  turkeys,  attended 
spelling  schools  or  husking  bees,  and  he  wouldn't  believe 
any  of  the  stories  about  Captain  Kidd's  buried  treasure. 
The  only  romantic  episode  in  his  life  was  eating  dinner  on 
a  saw-log  with  the  handsomest  girl  in  school.  The  girl  is 
long  since  dead,  and  the  saw-log  is  but  a  lonesome  land- 
mark of  time's  changes. 

BB  433 


434 


ALSO,    AVEBSTER. 


I  sometimes  wonder  what  lie  had  to  live  for,  and  how  he 

lived  as  long  as  he  did. 

Oh,  Henry  Clay, 
You  have  passed  away — 
We  shall  ever  remember 
The  tenth  of  December. 

Daniel  Webster  was  a  king  bee  in  his  time.  He  could 
get  up  at  a  moment's  notice  and  speak  on  any  topic,  from 
free  trade  to  the  best  cure  for  poll-evil.     He  understood 

M 


First  Lkgal  Principles. 

all  sorts  of  law,  and  even  at  that  early  day  he  held  that  it 
was  a  lawyer's  duty  to  get  hold  of  every  dollar  which  his 
client  could  raise.  It  was  stated  in  a  newspaper  paragraph 
last  spring  that  Daniel  once  gave  a  boot-black  a  $1,000  bill 
by  mistake  for  a  three-cent  silver  piece.  The  boy  indig- 
nantly denies  the  report.  He  says  that  Daniel  passed  a 
wildcat  $2  bill  on  him,  which  looks  entirely  reasonable 


AND    GENERAL    SCOTT. 


43^ 


and  natural.  Mr.  Webster  married,  but  she  was  not  the 
woman  of  his  choice.  He  had  a  fat  girl  selected  for  his 
life  partner,  but  four  weeks  before  he  was  to  lead  her  to 
the  altar  she  was  carried  to  her  grave  by  the  bilious  colic, 
caused  by  sitting  on  the  horse-block  and  eating  a  rutabaga. 
His  marriage  was  not  a  happy  one,  as  his  wife  refused  to 
build  the  fires,  and  whenever  he  wanted  fried  onions  for 
dinner  she  was  sure  to  have  noodle-soup.  Daniel  Webster 
was  the  man  who  invented  the  method  of  telling  a  horse's 
age  by  looking  into  his  mouth,  and  he  discovered  that  a 
cow  had  a  wrinkle  on  her  horn  for  every  year  of  her  age. 


Early  Tactics. 


General  Scott  was  a  remarkable  man.  No  cat  could 
live  in  the  neighborhood  after  he  got  so  that  he  could  aim 
a  shot-gun.  He  early  displayed  those  great  military  tac- 
tics which  afterwards  made  him  a  famous  general.  For 
instance,  when  he  was  only  nine  years  old  he  could  skir- 
mish down  on  an  orchard  as  well  as  a  grown  man,  and 
he  could  change  his  base  like  a  streak  of  lightning  when 
his  father  made  for  the  boot-jack.     During  his  young  nuui- 


436 


NOW   COMES    BOONE. 


hood  lie  wrote  several  pieces  of  poetry,  only  one  of  which 
can  I  now  recall  to  mind,  viz  : 

"Mary  had  a  little  lamb, 
Its  fleece  was  white  as  snow, 
And  everywhere  that  Mary  went 
The  lamb  was  sure  to  go." 

His  father  intended  to  have  him  learn  the  trade  of 
bologna  sausage  maker,  but  the  boj^  took  such  an  interest 
in  military  affairs  that  he  piled  up  the  sausages  in  the  shape 
of  a  fort,  bombarded  them  with  beef  bones,  and  the  butcher 
raised  the  black  flag  on  him.  Scott  was  a  very  peculiar 
man.  He  would  never  sleep  three  in  a  bed,  and  he  wouldn't 
hook  an  umbrella  under  any  circumstances.  The  General 
never  married.  He  once  had  all  due  preparations  made, 
but  being  informed  that  his  intended  loved  lager  he  backed 
out,  gave  her  a  mule  and  a  one-horse  wagon  as  compensa- 
tion for  her  broken  heart,  and  made  a  solemn  vow  never 
to  love  again.  The  only  pet  he  ever  had  was  a  one-eyed 
yellow  dog,  and  he  would  cashier  a  colonel  as  quick  as 
dust  for  even  winking  at  the  brute.  I  had  forgotten  to  say 
that  General  Scott  was  dead.  I  have  subscribed  for  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  different  monuments  for  him,  and 
he  hasn't  got  one  yet. 


Daniel  Boone's  Birth-Place. 

Daniel   Boone    discovered    Kentucky.      He   discovered 
Kentucky  about  the  same  time  the  Kentucky  Indians  dis- 


A    UU; HT   TO    FEEL    PROUD. 


U7 


covered  him.  lie  was  a  man  of  great  genius.  He  could 
load  a  shot  gun  faster  than  any  other  living  man,  and  he 
didn't  have  to  look  twice  to  tell  a  coon  track  from  a  cat 
track.  He  was  a  very  early  riser.  He  sometimes  got  up 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  ran  a  mile  or  two 
through  the  woods,  just  for  exercise — and  to  keep  the 
Indians  from  being  too  familiar  with  him.  Daniel's  prin- 
cipal occupation  was  cutting  his  name  on  the  beech  trees 
of  Ohio  and  Kentucky,  and  he  prided  himself  on  the  fact 
that  he  could  spell  his  name  as  correctly  as  any  other  man 
in  America. 


OUR  FRENCH  ENGRAVER. 


L,!N^  day  when  this  book  was  in  its  childhood  a  stran- 
ger came  to  me  and  looked  a  sad  look  out  of  his 
eyes,  and  his  nose,  and  his  mouth — in  truth,  he  was  a  sad- 
looking  man.  He  spoke  with  a  French  accent,  and  the 
accent  went  to  my  heart  when  he  said  that  he  was  in  the 
middle  of  strangers,  out  of  money,  and  hadn't  tasted 
raisin  cake  for  over  four  weeks. 

There  were  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  went  on  to  say  that 
he  had  heard  of  the  proposed  book,  and  while  he  couldn't 
think  of  begging  for  money,  he  would  do  some  grand 
engraving  for  us  at  about  half  what  Dore  would  ask. 

When  I  see  a  man  feeling  sad  it  makes  me  feel  sad  with 
him,  and  it  was  arranged  that  the  French  designer  should 
design  and  engrave  a  full-page  cut,  and  I  was  to  write  a 
"  Heaven  piece  "  to  match  it.  He  went  away  and  worked 
and  toiled  and  had  alternate  fits  of  enthusiasm  and  des- 
pondency, and  the  engraving  is  before  you.  We  accepted 
and  paid  for  it  because  we  felt  a  sympathy  for  the  friend- 
less man,  and  because  he  assured  us  that  it  was  engraved 
after  the  latest  French  ideas  in  art.  As  for  the  "  Heaven 
piece,"  I  wrote  the  article  found  on  page  No.  225,  entitled 
"  In  the  Chimney  Corner."  Observe  the  cut  and  notice 
how  the  old  man  in  the  chair  holds  his  hand.  The  idea 
occurred  to  me  that  he  had  a  felon  on  it,  and  though  the 
438 


NO    HAND    ORGAN    IN    HEAVEN.  439 

Frenchman  stood  on  his  tip-toes  and  shouted  "By  gar! 
no !"  I  still  hold  to  my  private  opinion. 

And  the  boy.  Observe  that  head,  and  the  hand  which 
has  fallen  down.  I  insisted  that  his  hand  had  been  mashed 
in  a  corn-sheller,  and  that  his  head  would  take  a  No.  10 
hat,  but  the  Frenchman  refused  to  believe  it. 

There's  a  roaring  fire,  as  you  will  observe,  and  the 
smoke  is  piling  into  the  room  in  a  way  to  shame  the  big 
chimney  of  a  locomotive  works.  It  may  be  the  smoke 
which  makes  the  boy  take  on  such  a  sickly  expression 
around  the  mouth.  Mosquitos  couldn't  live  ten  seconds 
in  that  room. 

You  see,  the  Frenchman's  idea  was  to  have  the  old  man 
die  in  his  chair.  lie  died  there,  either  overcome  by  indiges- 
tion or  the  smoke.  He  went  to  Heaven.  If  you  don't 
believe  it,  look  at  him  in  the  crowd  of  angels.  There  are 
two  men-angels  sailing  Ground  in  the  smoke,  and  you  will 
observe  that  moustaches  are  allowed  up  there  in  the  land 
beyond  the  skies.  There  are  some  angels  with  overcoats 
on,  and  some  with  sheets  wrapped  around  them,  and  the 
old  man  who  died  stepped  into  his  store  clothes  when  he 
got  above  the  fire-place.  I  suggested  to  the  Frenchman  to 
make  at  least  one  man-angel  with  top  boots  on,  and  a  plug 
hat  slanted  over  on  his  ear,  but  he  called  me  an  infidel. 

As  to  the  music,  there  is  one  angel  playing  on  a  banjo, 
and  another  looks  around  as  if  in  search  of  a  fiddle  or 
a  snare  drum.  I  wanted  a  hand  organ  in  there  somewhere, 
but  the  Frenchman  informed  me  that  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  a  hand  organ  in  Heaven. 

I  spoke  to  him  about  the  enormous  quantity  of  boards 
and  timber  used  in  the  construction  of  the  old  man's  chair, 
but  he  said  there  was  no  danger  of  exhausting  the  supply, 
and  went  down  stairs  growling  about  "  wooden-heads." 

The  Frenchman  still  lives.     He  is  a  sensitive  as  well  as 


440 


PLEASE    GO    FOR    HIM. 


a  sad  man.  I  paid  him  for  the  cut,  and  it  is  mine,  and  I 
hope  that  the  newspapers  throughout  the  country  will  each 
have  a  "  lick  "  at  him.  I  shall  show  him  each  criticism, 
and  smile  maliciously,  and  poke  him  in  the  ribs,  and  dance 
up  and  down  and  yell  at  him  that  his  new  improved 
French  method  of  engravin 
Mr.  Gilderoy's  kite. 


has  been  hoisted  higher  than 


THE  DARWIN  THEORY. 


fIIA^T]N'T  looked  into  the  subject  as  one  ought  to, 
but  ^Ir.  Darwin's  theory  strikes  me  as  very  reason- 
able.    It's  all  theory,  of  course,  and  it  makes  me  feel 
sad  when  I  reflect  that  it  may  always  remain  a  theory. 

My  family  traditions  are  few^,  owing  to  the  fact  that  we 
can't  get  trace  of  our  great  great  grandfather.  Grand- 
father and  great  grandfather  are  all  right ;  w'e  can  put  our 
hands  right  on  'em,  or  rather 
on  their  records,  but  beyond 
them  the  trail  is  befogged  and 
lost.  But  for  Darwin's  theory 
I  shouldn't  entertain  the  faint- 
est hope  of  ever  solving  the 
genealogical  mystery.  There 
is  hope  now,  every  time  I 
enter  a  circus  tent,  that  I  may 
run  across  one  of  my  ances- 
tors. I  can't  say  who  my 
great  great  grandfather  was. 
_^__  He    might    have    bled   with 

"^"    "     Perhaps.  Wallace,  landed  with  the  Pil- 

grim Fathers,  or  sailed  with  Columbus,  but  it's  just  as 
probable  that  he  was  a  native  of  Africa,  walked  on  four 
legs  and  made  it  lively  for  the  cocoanuts  growing  on  the 
top  branches.  If  I  should  ever  travel  in  Africa  I  should 
441 


44: 


MISSING   LINKS. 


\\ 


look  around  in  the  expectation  of  seeing  him  out  on  a 
morning  walk,  or  coming  across  him  up  to  his  elbows  in 
business. 

I  do  not  know  as  any  one  need  feel  ashamed  of  the 
thought  that  some  of  his  ancestors  were  gorillas.  If  a 
gorilla  has  stamina  of  character,  is  public  spirited  and  pro- 
gressive, he  is  enti- 
tled to  respect.  If  I 
should  come  across 
the  ancestor  spoken 
of  I  should  expect  to 
find  a  genial  hearted, 
^  liberal  minded  old 
^  chap,  with  no  mania 
for  buying  lottery 
tickets,  no  desire  for 
political  office,  and 
no  care  but  to  keep 
his  character  above 
reproach.  It  would 
be  a  crushing  blow 
for  me  to  find  the  old 
man  in  a  menagerie,  and  have  the  man  who  explains  the 
nature  of  each  resident  of  a  cage  speak  up  and  say : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  that  'ere  baboon  over  there  is 
as  mean  as  the  man  who  sprinkled  turpentine  on  the 
mince  pie  so  that  the  children  wouldn't  injure  their  digest- 
ive organs.  He's  sly,  malicious,  deceitful  and  revengeful. 
He  bit  a  boy's  nose  ofl*  in  London,  tore  a  man's  eye  out  in 
Edinburg,  and  pulled  the  Mayor's  whiskers  in  Cork. 
Beware  of  him !  When  you  stand  close  to  the  cage  keep 
a  good  ways  off." 

Neither  Mr.  Dar^\nn  or  any  one  else  could  blame  me, 
but  I  know  I  should  feel  like  walking  right  out  of  the  tent 


Missing  Link. 


FAMILY    rillDE.  443 

without  stopping  to  sec  tlio  sacred  cow  of  India  or  the 
three-legged  goose  from  Constantinople.  I  cannot  say  but 
that  my  ancestor  is  tearing  around  in  Africa,  cooking  up 
a  plot  to  dethrone  the  king  of  Dahomey,  or  getting  up  a 
"corner"  on  yams,  but  I  flatly  and  positively  refuse  to 
be  responsible  for  any  of  his  bad  actions.  "When  the  sad 
wind  sobs  and  moans  around  the  gables,  and  the  rain- 
drops patter  drearily,  the  mind  will  feel  an  anxiety  to 
know  if  one's  ancestor  hasn't  been  turned  into  the  street 
for  non-payment  of  house  rent ;  if  his  wood  pile  is  low ; 
if  some  of  his  children  are  not  down  with  the  croup,  or  if 
the  plumbers  haven't  robbed  and  murdered  him  in  pay- 
ment for  soldering  up  a  pin-hole  leak  in  the  water  pipe. 
It's  anno}dng  to  live  in  America  and  have  relatives  in 
Africa  to  worry  about,  and  it  cuts  one's  pride  to  see  lead- 
ing members  of  the  family  content  to  be  caged  up,  carried 
around  the  country,  and  have  no  ambition  further  than  to 
catch  the  apple  cores  and  "  hunks  "  of  gingerbread  thrown 
by  the  towm  boys. 


ON  THE  NIGHT  BREEZE. 


one  could  say  who  owned  that  mule.  Small 
boys  had  pelted  him  with  liberal  hand,  and 
the  police  had  made  glorious  but  unsuc- 
cessful efibrts  to  ensnare  his  wayward  steps 
and  turn  him  over  to  the  pound-master. 

A  gray  mule,  well  put  together  for  an 
animal  of  the  kind.  The  rotundity  of 
form  which  distinguishes  the  well-fed  mule  was  lacking. 
A  bite  of  grass  here  and  there,  an  occasional  thistle-head, 
a  nibble  at  a  passing  load  of  hay,  may  blunt  the  edge  of 
hunger,  but  will  not  produce  plumpness  nor  good  nature. 

He  had  wandered 
from   home,  this 
mule — started  out 
w^itli  a  desire,  per- 
haps, of  visiting 
strange   towns, 
meeting  with  strange  ad- 
y.  ventures,  and  seeing  the 
world.     His   owner   had 
been  left  one  mule  less, 
A  Wanderer.  and  mayhap  he  had  dili- 

gently searched,  and  been  patient  and  hopeful,  trusting 
that  the  wheel  of  time  would  turn  and  return  the  mourned 
estray. 

Down  the  street — around  the  corner — the  gas-light  play- 
444 


THE    FIRST   ALARM, 


445 


mg  for  a  moment  on  his  faded  coat — and  the  mule  crowded 
close  to  the  fence  and  peered  over  with  hungry  eyes  at  the 
juicy  green  grass.  Thus  have  we  raised  the  curtain  of  fact 
and  introduced  to  orchestra,  parquette,  boxes  and  gallery, 
the  leading  character,  playing  not  the  role  of  the  old  man, 
but  the  role  of  the  old  mule. 

In  the  parlor  sat  the  lovers.     She  was  beautiful — he  was 


was  interested  in  a  bridge  contract  where   there  was  a 
chance  for  a  splendid  grab.     He  loved,  and  he  trusted  that 
she  reciprocated.     He  had  come  prepared  to  announce  his 
love,  and  she  blushed  as  she  read  the  fact  in  his  eyes. 
"My  dear   Isabella,"  he   commenced,   as   ho   tenderly 

pressed  her  soft  fingers,  "  I  think  you " 

"Gee-haw!  gee-hawM"  roared  the  wayward  mule,  ren- 
dered melancholy  by  the  sight  of  the  bountiful  supper  just 
beyond  his  nose. 

The  fair  Isabella  sprang  up  in  alarm,  and  it  was  several 

minutes  before  the  en- 
thusiastic young  man 
with  Lake  Shore  stock 
could  quiet  her. 

"  It  is  nothing  but 

a  mule,"  he  explained, 

as  he  looked  from  the 

open  window ;  and  he 

scowled  darkly  at  the 

wanderer,  and  made 

threatening   gestures. 

She  sat  down  again, 

and  the  painful  silence 

was  at  length  broken  by  his  grasping  her  hand  and  saying : 

"I  have  to-day  been  analyzing  my  feelings  toward  you, 

and  I  find  that " 


Only  a  Mule. 


446  ,  NOT    A    LOST    CHILD,   ** 

"  0-h  !  hoo-haw,  gee-haw — gee-haw!"  announced  the 
homeless,  houseless  mule,  as  he  caught  the  scent  of  roses 
and  tulips  from  the  lawn.  He  saw  things  as  a  mule  sees 
them — he  hungered  as  mules  hunger. 

"  It's  that  beast  again  !"  whispered  Lake  Shore  stock,  as 
the  fair  Isabella  uttered  a  little  shriek  of  alarm. 

He  went  to  the  window  and  ordered  the  gray-haired 
outcast  to  move  on — to  leave  that  locality  without  any 
unnecessary  delay  and  secure  standing  room  on  the 
common. 

They  sat  down  again.  He  had  something  of  interest  to 
communicate,  and  she  had  a  curiosity  to  know  what  it  was. 
Minutes  ticked  away  before  he  looked  into  her  lustrous 
eyes  again.  He  thought  he  saw  the  light  of  love  shining 
brightly,  and  he  stole  his  arm  along  the  sofa  and  said : 

"  You  must  have  seen — you  must  know,  that  I " 

"  0-li-h !  gee-gee-ah-ha !  ah-hal"  came  a  voice  from 
beneath  tlie  window.  It  was  not  the  voice  of  a  drifting 
sailor,  going  down  to  a  dark,  deep  grave,  after  a  gallant 
struggle  for  life.  It  was  not  the  voice  of  a  lost  child  cry- 
ing out  as  it  stumbled  through  the  darkness,  longing  for 
the  strong  arm  of  a  father  to  enfold  it.  It  was  the  voice 
of  the  old  gray  mule,  quavering  strangely  as  hunger 
brought  up  recollections  of  corn  cribs  and  timothy  hay. 

A  smile  flitted  across  her  face.  The  human  soul  is  so 
constructed  that  one  may  smile  at  a  victorious,  exultant 
champion,  or  at  a  downcast,  discouraged  mule. 

Lake  Shore  stock  approached  the  window  again,  and  as 
he  brandished  his  fist  in  the  air  he  warned  the  intruder  to 
dissolve  in  the  dim  distance,  under  penalty  of  being  found 
dead  with  a  severed  jugular. 

When  a  rubber  ball  is  flattened  it  will  spring  back  to  its 
original  shape  as  soon  as  the  pressure  is  removed.  When 
a  lover's  declaration  has  been  thrice  broken  in  upon,  his 


NOT  AN  ODIOUS   co^v.  447 

thoughts  are  slow  in  gathering.  They  sat  there  and  ga/.od 
at  the  opposite  wall  as  if  waiting  for  a  railroad  train,  l)ut 
she  finally  glanced  up  coyly  and  lovingl}-,  and  softly 
whispered  : 

"  You  were  about  to  say  something !'' 
"  I  was,"  he  whispered  in  return,  reaching  out  for  her 
hand.     "  The  public  have  acknowledged  me  as  your — your 
favored  suitor  for  months  past,  and  this  fact  has  embold- 
ened me  to " 

"Hip — hup — haw — ge-haw-ha!"  came  a  voice  on  the 
night  breeze — a  voice  which  halted  and  gasped  and  hesita- 
ted as  if  the  owner  had  risen 
from  beside  the  grave  of  a  loved, 
lost  friend.  It  was  not  the  voice 
of  a  troubadour  warbling  notes 
of  anguish  set  in  rhyme.  It  was 
not  the  voice  of  a  lone   night 

Not  a  Troubadour.  1,[y([  calling  for  itS  lost  mate.      It 

was  the  voice  of  that  same  mule  calling  to  the  lilac  bushes 
to  come  a  little  nearer — to  come  and  get  a  bite. 

"  Is  that  an  odious  cow  ?"  she  softly  inquired. 

"  'No ;  it's  a  blasted  mule  !"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Such  language,  sir !"  she  said  as  she  rose  up. 

"  Such  a  mule,  madam !"  he  replied,  pointing  to  the 
window.  "  I'll  kill  the  man — the  mule — that  has  dared  to 
come  between  us!"  he  shouted,  and  he  rushed  from  the 
mansion. 

He  pelted  that  age-worn  mule  with  lawn  ornaments ; 
he  pelted  it  with  stones  picked  from  the  street  or  found 
alongside  the  curbstone. 

Halting  under  a  lone  tree  on  the  dreary  common — gazing 
through  the  deep  shadows  of  night  to  discover  why  pur- 
suit was  abandoned,  the  old  gray  mule  seemed  to  realize 
that,  even  as  a  mule,  it  was  safe  to  have  an  accident  insur- 


448 


FRIENDLESS    AND    ALONE. 


ance  ticket  in  liis  pocket,  and  he  sighed  and  gasped  and 
tremulously  soliloquized : 

"  Gee-haw — gee-ah — r-rr-raw — ge-haio  /" 

And  the  shadows  grew  deeper,  the  night  hreeze  sighed 
with  renewed  loneliness,  the  stars  nestled  behind  the 
clouds  to  sleep,  and  he  felt  that  he  was  a  mule  beloved 
by  none. 


THOSE  CIRCUS  BILLS. 


RTLESS  and  innocent,  she  had  one  in  her 
\      hand  as  she  came  up  stairs,  and  she 
didn't  say  a  word  until  after  she  had 
wiped  her  spectacles,  placed  them  on 
;_  her  nose,  unfolded  the  bill  and  read  a 
few  of  the  headlines. 
=^f^F^-^ -'^^-^-  She  was  quite  old-fashioned  in  look. 

There  were  strings  to  her  bonnet,  she  had  no  bustle,  her 
gray  hair  was  combed  down  smoothly,  and  there  were  only 
eleven  yards  in  her  black  alpaca  dress. 

"  Young  man,  don't  you  know  that  circuses  are  awful 
liars  and  humbugs  ?"  she  finally  inquired. 

The  man  at  the  table  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  refused 
to  express  an  opinion. 

"  Well,  I  know  it,"  she  continued  in  a  positive  tone, 
"  and  I  believe  they  git  wuss  every  day.  Now  see  here — 
listen  to  this :  '  A  gorgeous  panorama  of  amazing  won- 
ders— a  gigantic  combination  of  astonishing  acrobatic 
talent.'  That's  all  right  on  the  poster,  but  hev  they  got 
'em?     I'd  like  to  see  one  o'  them  animals." 

"  You're  laboring  under  a  mistake,  madam.  It  means 
a  grand  display  of  natural  curiosities,  and  informs  the 
public  that  the  proprietor  has  secured  many  first  class 
acrobats — the  chaps  who  stand  on  their  heads,  turn  head 
over  heels,  and  cut  up  so  many  monkey-shines." 
CO  449 


450 


IN    TRAINING. 


"It  does,  eh?"  she  mused;  "waal,  do  you  believe  it 
takes  a  smart  person  to  keel  over  ?" 

"  Well,  one  has  to  have  a  good  deal  of  trainmg." 

"  They  do,  eh?"  she- remarked,  as  she  put  her  umbrella 
in  the  corner  and  spat  on  her  hands ;  "  I'll  show  you  that 
you  are  deceived !     I'm  an  old  woman,  but  if  I  can't " 

"Madam,  hold  on — don't  do  it!"  exclaimed  the  man 
behind  the  table. 

"  I  can  flop  right  over  there  and  never  shake  my  bon- 
net !"  she  said  as  she  rose  up. 


"It  Does,  Eh/  ' 

"I  know  you  can,  madam,  but  don't.  I  am  here  alone, 
and  I — I  don't  want  you  to.  I'd  rather  yon  wouldn't.  If 
you  are  determined  on  it  I  shall  leave  the  room !" 

"Well,  you  know  I  can  do  it,  and  that's  enough.  You 
may  be  right  about  what  that  means,  but  see  here — hear 
this  :  '  The  highways  ablaze  with  resplendent  chariots — 
the  grandest  pageant  on  earth.'  I've  bin  to  lots  o'  circuses, 
young  man,  and  I  never  saw  a  pageant  yet.  K  they  had 
one  the  door  of  his  cage  wasn't  open." 


ABOUT    AERIAL    FLIGHTS, 


451 


"You  are  also  in  error  there.  The  bill  refers  to  tlie 
fact  that  the  great  number  of  wagons,  chariots,  etc.,  make 
up  a  sight  worth  seeing  as  they  pass  along  the  street," 

"  Um-m-m,"  she  muttered  as  she  folded  the  bill  over ; 
"  I  don't  see  why  they  couldn't  have  said  so,  then.  And 
now  see  here — read  that :  '  Sig.  Govinotf,  in  his  aerial 
flights,'  Now,  then,  is  that  a  boa  constrictor  or  a  cun- 
du  ran  2:0  ?" 


'Just  Once! 


"  It  is  a  man,  madam — one  of  the  performers.  His  real 
name  is  probably  .Jones,  but  that  isn't  grand  enough,  and 
so  they  put  him  down  as  '  Sig.  Govinoff.'  He  is  the  man 
who  jumps  ofi"  a  rope,  turns  over  twice,  and  comes  down 
all  right." 

"He  is,  eh?     Well,  if  he's  got  an  idea  that  he's  the 


452  READY    TO    ENTERTAIN. 

smartest  man  alive  I  want  to  disappoint  him.  I  never  did 
try  to  turn  over  twice,  but  I'll  do  it  right  here  and  now  or 
break  my  neck.     Git  the  things  off'n  that  table !" 

"  Stay,  madam — don't.  I  wouldn't  have  you  do  it  for 
fifty  dollars." 

"Just  once!" 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  madam,  get  down  off'n  this  tabic — 
tere — here's  a  dollar  if  you  won't  do  it !" 

"  I  don't  want  your  money,  and  I  won't  try  it  if  you  are 
so  scart,  but  I  don't  want  no  circus  going  around  talking 
about  aryal  flights  and  deceiving  the  people  !" 

She  sat  down,  the  young  man  wiped  the  sweat  off  his 
brow,  and  presently  she  remarked : 

"  And  here's  another  thing,  right  here  :  '  A  sparkling 
asterisk,  flashing  across  the  field  of  the  cloth  of  gold — 
Mons.  Gomerique,  in  his  great  delineations  of  human 
character.'     I'd  like  to  know  who  she  is." 

"  Madam,  that  is  a  man — a  comic  man  who  delineates 
character." 

"How?" 

"  Why,  he  makes  up  faces — expresses  mirth,  sorrow,  joy, 
and  so  forth." 

"  He  does,  eh?  Well,  what's  that  to  blow  about  ?  Makes 
up  faces — see  here  !" 

And  she  shut  her  eyes,  run  her  tongue  out,  and  looked 
like  the  bottom  of  a  brass  kettle  which  had  been  kicked 
in  by  an  army  mule. 

"They  are  humbugs,  sir!"  she  said  as  she  drew  her 
tongue  in,  "  and  d'ye  s'pose  I'd  pay  fifty  cents  to  go  to 
one?" 

"  They  are  quite  entertaining  as  a  general  thing." 

"  They  are,  eh  ?  Entertaining,  eh  ?  Well,  if  I  can't  do 
more  entertaining  in  five  minutes  than  a  circus  can  in  all 
day  I'll  leave  my  bonnet  up  here  !  Here,  hold  on  to  this 
chair !" 


GOROEOUSES,    ETC. 


453 


I  liaiir  t,  ell? 


"  Madam,  I  earnestly  hope  you  are  not  going  to  perform 
any  tricks." 

You  just   hold  on  to  the  legs  of  tliis 
chair!" 

"  I  can't  madam — I  wouldn't  do 
it  for  all  the  diamond  pins  in  Syra- 
cuse !  Go  away,  madam — go  home  ! 
I'm  in  an  awful  hurry  !" 

"  Well,  I  won't,  then,  but  when  I 
say  circuses  are  humbugs  I  can  prove 
^     it.     I  don't  keer  two  cents  for  their 
big  words  and  their  panoplies,  pag- 
eants, asterisks,  giraftes,  aryals,  gor- 
geouses  and  ourang-outangs — I  can 
beat  'em  all  holler  myself!" 
"Hold  on  to  this  chaik."       And  shc  took  off  her  spectacles, 
lifted  her  umbrella,  and  went  down  stairs. 


OLD  SOL,  OF  COMPANY  B. 


|;FTER  the  first  year  of  the  war  a  good 
many  of  us  wanted  to  go  home. 
"We  could  get  together  and  name 
three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
weighty  reasons  why  we  should 
return  to  the  bosom  of  our  families 
instead  of  longer  biting  hard-tack 
.  and  dodging  bullets,  but  we  didn't 
get  home.  The  only  way  to  secure 
a  discharge  was  to  get  a  leg  or  an  arm  shot  oft',  or  to  fall 
sick  and  hang  around  until  the  ofiicers  became  worn  out 
and  bored  to  death. 

The  old  dead-beats  settled  down  on  two  favorite  tricks. 
One  was  to  eat  Government  soap  u|itil  real  sickness  came, 
and  the  other  to  suddenly  lose  the  voice.  We  had  a  man 
in  company  B,  who  one  day  made  up  his  mind  that  he  had 
saved  the  country  enough,  and  he  lost  his  voice.  Suspect- 
ing that  he  was  practicing  deception,  the  captain  kept  Old 
Sol  on  duty  as  before,  and  every  man  in  the  company  had 
a  fling  at  him. 

However,  after  two  months  had  passed  away  and  the  old 
man  had  not  been  tripped  up  we  began  to  believe  that  he 
was  honest  in  his  assertions.  The  officers  used  every  arti- 
fice to  expose  him,  but  every  attempt  was  a  flat  failure. 
He  was  challenged  on  the  sentry  line,  suddenly  roused 
454 


TOO    MUCH    MULE.  455 

from  sleep,  confronted  with  the  colonel  and  savagely 
talked  to,  and  yet  lie  could  not  be  betrayed  into  uttering 
a  loud  sound.  He  would  have  been  discharged  in  another 
week  if  the  captain  had  not  discovered  a  new  plan,  and 
one  that  proved  successful. 

We  were  squatted  before  Yorktown  then,  two  men  to  a 
tent,  and  old  Sol's  partner  was  out  on  the  picket  line  one- 
day,  leaving  the  voiceless  man  alone  in  the  tent.  A  mule 
wandering  through  the  camp  stopped  near  the  tent  and 
uttered  a  fearfully  loud,  long  bray.  Old  Sol  rushed  out 
and  drove  the  beast  away,  and  the  captain,  who  had  seen 
the  whole  performance,  at  once  struck  a  plan. 

After  a  brief  hunt  he  found  among  the  teamsters  a  mule 
which  was  warranted  to  bray  two  hundred  pounds  to  the 
square  inch.  A  corporal  was  let  into  the  plan,  and  when 
night  came  and  old  Sol  had  fallen  asleep  the  mule  was 
brought  around  and  tied  near  his  tent,  having  a  lariat 
about  twenty  feet  long.  No  sooner  had  the  corporal 
skulked  away  than  the  beast  cocked  his  ears,  rolled  up  his 
eyes,  and  screamed  out: 

"  0  !  yaw !  yaw !  yaw  !  yaw !" 

Old  Sol  was  out  of  bed  in  an  instant,  and  though  fire- 
wood was  scarce  he  wasted  several  sticks  on  the  mule, 
which  sprang  away  the  length  of  the  lariat  and  was  lost 
in  the  darkness.  The  voiceless  man  got  into  bed  again, 
but  in  two  minutes  the  mule  walked  up  and  pealed  out : 

"Yaw!  ha!  yaw!  yaw!  s-o-h !  yaw!" 

Old  Sol  threw  more  wood,  the  plaguey  beast  returned, 
and  the  soldier  hadn't  crawled  under  his  blanket  before 
the  fearful  bray  shook  his  tent  again.  This  was  repeated 
five  or  six  times,  and  finally  as  the  mule  started  to  improve 
on  all  previous  brays  the  voiceless  man  leaped  up  and 
yelled  out : 

"ISTow  dum  my  buttons  if  I'll  take  any  more  of  that! 


456 


OWNED    THE    CORN. 


I  want  to  go  home  and  see  Marier  and  the  children  mighty 
bad,  but  I'll  kill  that  mule  if  I  have  to  stay  here  and  fight 
the  whole  durned  Confederate  army  single-handed  !" 

Half  the  men  in  company  B  were  on  their  hands  and 
knees  around  the  tent,  and  old  Sol  couldn't  back  water. 
He  owned  up  that  he'd  been  playing  off,  and  after  that  no 
soldier  in  our  division  did  his  duty  more  cheerfully  than 
the  old  man  Sol. 


A  LONE  HAND. 


NE  day  Mrs,  Blisa  foiinrl  a  ciiclirc 
deck  ill  her  boy's  pocket,  and 
when  she  took  him  by  the  hair 
he  calmly  said : 

"Hold,  on  mother — it  isn't  your 
play." 

"I'll    play   you!"    she    hissed, 
tightening  her  grip.     "  How  came  you  by  these  cards  ?" 

"Mother,  you  shouldn't  trump  me  this  way!"  he 
explained. 

"  Trumps !  trumps  !  what  do  you  know  about  trumps  ?" 
"  Why,  mother,  any  fool  knows  that  the  right  bower 
will  take  an  ace  every  time." 

"  It  will,  eh  ?"  she  hissed  as  she  walked  him  around. 
"  Of  course  it  will.    If  diamonds  are  trumps,  for  instance, 

and  I  hold  the  ace  and  left  bow " 

"Bowers!  bowers!  I'll  bower  you  to  death,  young 
man !"  she  said  as  she  walked  him  the  other  way. 

"  Or,  suppose  that  spades  were  trumps,  and  you  held  tlie 
nine  spot  and  king  and  turned  up  the  ace,  what  would  you 
do  ?"  he  earnestly  inquired. 

"  Oh,  I'll  show  you  what  I'd  do !"  she  growled  as  she 
got  in  a  left-hander  on  his  ear.  "  I'll  teach  you  a  lesson 
you'll  never  forget!" 

"That  wouldn't  be  according  to  Iloyle,  mother;  you 

could  pick  up  the  ace  and  make  a  point  every " 

457 


458 


A    LONE    HAND. 


"  Point !  point !  Young  man,  I'll  point  you  so  that 
you'll  sta}^  sharpened  for  a  hundred  years  if  you  don't 
drop  such  slang!"  she  screamed  as  she  jumped  him  over  a 
chair. 

"But,  mother,  you  shouldn't  stack  the  cards  on  me 
this " 

She  wouldn't  wait  to  hear  the  rest,  but  drew  him  over 
her  knee  and  played  a  lone  hand. 


MORAL  COURAGE. 


jORAL  courage  is  a  big  thing.  All  the 
good  papers  advise  everybody  to  have 
moral  courage.  All  the  almanacs 
wind  up  with  a  word  about  moral 
.,  courage.  The  Rev.  Murray  and  the 
^^^  Rev.  Collier  and  the  Rev.  Spur- 
^^'^"^"geon,  and  lots  of  other  reverends 
tell  their  congregations  to  exhibit  moral  courage  in  daily 
life.  Moral  courage  doesn't  cost  a  cent;  everybody  can 
fill  up  with  it  until  he  can't  eat  half  a  dinner  after  going 
without  breatfast. 

"  Have  the  moral  courage  to  discharge  a  debt  while  you 
have  the  money  in  your  pocket,"  is  one  of  the  "  moral  cour- 
age "  paragraphs. 

Mr.  Mower  read  this  once,  and  he  determined  to  act 
upon  it.  One  day  his  wife  handed  him  five  dollars,  which 
she  had  been  two  years  saving,  and  asked  him  to  bring  her 
up  a  parasol  and  a  pair  of  gaiters.  On  the  way  down  he 
met  a  creditor,  and  had  the  moral  courage  to  pay  him. 
Returning  home,  his  wife  called  him  157,000  names,  such 
as  "fool,"  "  idiot,"  etc.,  and  then  struck  him  four  times  in 
the  pit  of  the  stomach  with  a  flat  iron.  After  that  he 
didn't  have  as  much  moral  courage  as  would  make  a  lean- 
ing post  for  a  sick  grasshopper,  and  his  wife  didn't  forgive 
him  for  thirteen  years. 

"  Have  the  courage  to  tell  a  man  wliy  you  refuse  to 
credit  him,"  is  another  paragraph.      That  means  if  you 

4r,9 


460  SOME    MORE    PARAGRAPHS. 

keep  a  store,  and  old  Mr.  Putty  comes  in  and  wants  a 
pound  of  tea  charged,  you  must  promptly  respond : 

"  Mr.  Putty,  your  credit  at  this  store  isn't  worth  the 
powder  to  blow  a  mosquito  over  a  tow-string.  You  are  a 
fraud  of  the  first  water,  Mr.  Putty,  and  I  wouldn't  trust 
you  for  a  herring's  head  if  herrings  were  selling  at  a  cent 
a  box." 

Mr.  Putty  will  never  ask  you  for  credit  again,  and  you 
will  have  the  consciousness  of  having  performed  your 
honest  duty. 

"  In  providing  an  entertainment  for  your  friends,  have 
have  the  courage  not  to  go  be3'ond  your  means,"  is  another 
paragraph.  If  your  daughter  wants  a  party,  and  you  are 
short,  don't  be  lavish.  Borrow  some  chairs,  make  a  bench 
of  a  board  and  two  pails,  and  set  out  some  molasses  and 
watermelon,  and  tell  the  crowd  to  gather  around  the  fest- 
ive board  and  partake.  They  will  appreciate  your  moral 
courage,  if  not  the  banquet. 

"  Have  the  courage  to  show  your  respect  for  honesty," 
is  another.  That  is,  if  you  hear  of  anybody  who  picked 
up  a  five-dollar  bill  and  restored  it  to  its  owner,  take  him 
by  the  hand  and  say :  "  Mr.  Kambo,  let  me  compliment 
you  on  being  an  honest  man.  I  didn't  think  it  of  you, 
and  I  am  agreeably  disappointed.  I  always  believed  you 
were  a  liar,  a  rascal  and  a  thief,  and  I  am  glad  to  find  that 
you  are  neither — shake." 

"  Have  the  courage  to  speak  the  truth,''  is  a  paragraph 
always  in  use.  I  once  knew  a  boy  named  Peter.  One  day 
when  he  was  loafing  around  he  heard  some  men  talkins: 
about  old  Mr.  Hangmoney.  Their  talk  made  a  deep 
impression  on  Peter,  and  he  went  to  the  old  man  and 
spoke  the  truth.  He  said :  "  Mr.  Hangmoney,  when  I  was 
up  town  to-day  I  heard  Baker  say  you  were  a  regular  old 
hedge-hog  with  a  tin  ear." 


TOWBOY  S    EXPERIENCE.  4G1 

"  AVhat !"'  roared  the  old  gent. 

"And  Clevis  said  that  you  were  meaner  than  a  dead 
dog  rolled  in  tan-bark/'  continued  the  truthful  lad. 

*'  You  imp — yon  villain  !"  roared  the  old  man. 

"  And  Kingston  said  that  you  were  a  bald-headed,  cross- 
eyed, cheating,  lying,  stealing  old  skunk  under  the  hen- 
coop!" added  the  boy. 

Then  old  Mr.  Hangmoney  fell  upon  the  truthful  Peter, 
and  he  mopped  the  floor  with  him,  knocked  his  heels 
against  the  wall,  tore  his  collar  otf,  and  put  his  shoulder 
out  of  joint,  all  because  that  boy  had  the  moral  courage 
to  tell  the  truth. 

And  there  was  young  Towboy — it  was  the  same  with 
him.  He  had  the  moral  courage  to  go  over  to  an  old  maid 
and  say : 

"  Miss  Fallsair,  father  says  he  never  saw  such  a  withered 
up  old  Hubbard  squash  as  you  are  around  trying  to  trap  a 
man  V 

"  He  did,  eh  ?"  mused  the  old  maid,  rising  up  from  her 
chair. 

"  Yes,  and  mother  says  it's  a  burning  shame  that  you 
call  yourself  twenty-four  when  you  are  forty-seven,  and 
she  says  that  your  hair-dye  costs  more  than  our  wood  !" 

"  She  said  that,  did  she  ?"  murmured  the  female. 

"  Yes,  and  sister  Jane  says  that  if  she  had  such  a  big 
mouth,  such  freckles,  such  big  feet  and  such  silly  ways, 
she'd  want  the  lightning  to  strike  her." 

And  then  the  old  maid  picked  up  the  rolling-pin  and 
sought  the  house  in  which  Towboy  resided,  and  she 
knocked  down  and  dragged  out  until  it  was  a  hospital. 
Then  Towboy's  father  mauled  him,  his  mother  pounded 
him,  and  his  sister  denuded  him  of  half  his  hair — all 
because  he  had  moral  courage  in  his  daily  life. 


THE   O'LONE  INVENTION. 


iiiilllll 


[HE  public  are  herewith  presented  with  a  very  faithful 
,  wood-cut  illustration  of  a  new  patent  just  granted  to 
Mrs.  Bridget  O'Lone,  of 
Detroit — a  patent  in  which 
I  have  a  half-interest.  No 
one  but  a  woman  would 
[I        IIIIIP''"'^^  have  invented  this  machine, 

and  the  entire  credit  of  the 
invention  must  be  given  to 
a  female  whose  opportuni- 
ties of  securing  an  educa- 
tion have  been  very  limited. 
Mrs.  O'Lone  is  a  married 
woman,  having  a  husband 
but  no  children. 

Mr.  O'Lone  was  in  the 
habit  of  putting  on  his  hat 
after  supper  and  remarking 
that  he  was  going  to  step 
out  for  just  a  moment,  and 
then  she'd  see  no  more  of 
him  for  four  hours.  She 
argued,  coaxed,  clubbed 
and  entreated,  but  though 
The  Motive  Power.  Mr.  O'Louc  is  a  kind-heart- 

ed man  he  loved  to  sit  on  the  grocery  steps  and  whittle  a 
shingle  better  than  he  loved  his  own  hearthstone. 
462 


EXCELLED    BY   NONE. 


4G3 


After  fourteen  years  of  patient  waitiiiir  and  lioping  Mrs. 
O'Lonc  fell  upon  this  invention.  Tlie  out  fully  explains 
the  Invention  up  to  the  window.  From  that  point  is  a  coil 
of  rope  containing  one  lumdrcd  feet,  one  end  attached  to 
the  wheel,  the  other  having  a  stout  hook.  Mr.  O'Lone 
gets  up  from  the  tahle  and  says  he'd  like  to  go  down  to 
the  grocery  and  hear  how  the  murder  trial  comes  out. 
The  hook  is  fastened  to  his  clothing,  the  rope  paid 
out,  and  Mrs.  O'Leary  looks  at  the  clock  and  warns 
him  to  be  home  at  nine.  He  promises,  but  after  he  gets 
seated  on  the  head  of  a  sugar  barrel  the  interesting  con- 
versation kills  time  so  rapidly  that  he  does  not  hear  the 
clock  strike.  He  is  arguing  politics  or  talking  about  the 
crops,  when  Mrs.  O'Leary  steps  to  the  Avheel  in  the  kitchen 
and  begins  to  turn.  The  eiiect  is  wonderful,  as  the  accom- 
panying illustration  will  plainly 
prove.  Mr.  O'Lone  finds  him- 
self hoisted  up  to  the  second 
story  window  of  his  own  vine- 
clad  cottage  in  no  time  at  all, 
and  after  his  wife  satisfies  her- 
self that  he  is  sober,  and  doesn't 
feel  like  raising  a  row,  she  draws 
him  in. 

I  have  seen  this  machine  tried  on  twenty  difix^rent  occa- 
sions, and  it  worked  successfully  in  every  instance. 

It  is  an  invention  which  must  revolutionize  the  country 
in  a  short  time  and  bring  about  a  different  state  of  domes- 
tic dicipline.  "Where  one  of  these  machines  is  set  up  in  a 
house  the  husband  Avill  either  remain  at  home  altogether, 
or  return  five  minutes  ahead  of  time.  He  will  desert  his 
old  haunts,  glue  the  knobs  on  the  bureau,  get  the  kindlings 
for  morning  and  draw  the  water  for  a  big  washing  without 
a  word  of  complaint. 


464 


MAKES    FOLKS    HAPPY. 


It  works  just  as  well  in  tlie  case  of  a  boy  fourteen  or 
fifteen  years  old.     It  will  bring  him  home  when  a  police- 

man  couldn't  stir  him  a  foot. 

He  won't  come  over  the  alley 
fence  and  through  the  wood- 
shed window,  but  he'll  trot 
right  along  by  the  shortest 
route,  and  won't  stop  to  lay 
any  plans  for  the  next  night. 
Three  of  these  machines 
are  in  use  in  Euclid  avenue, 
Cleveland ;  two  on  Fort  street, 
Detroit;  one  in  Cincinnati, 
and  four  in  Chicago,  and 
Old  Haunts.  money    Couldn't    purchase 

them  of  the  owners.  There  is  no  more  hanging  around 
corner  groceries  where  these  machines  are  in  operation — 
no  stepping  around  to  Johnson's — no  going  to  the  lodge. 
The  husband  and  sons  are  in  bed  at  nine  o'clock,  and 
wives  and  mothers  haven't  been  so  happy  in  seven  years. 


^^^^^ 


JOHN  JONES,  SICK  MAN. 


was  "  grunting  around "  for  two  or 
three  days  before  he  would  give  up. 
Mrs.  Jones  advised  him  to  take  pills 
or  quinine,  but  he  said  he  guessed  he'd 
be  all  right  as  soon  as  the  weather 
changed  again.  On  the  third  morning 
he  had  a  high  fever  and  couldn't  stand  up. 

Mrs.  Jones  seemed  delighted.  lie  hadn't  been  sick 
before  for  thirteen  years,  and  she  had  a  splendid  stock  of 
herbs  and  powders  and  liquids  in  the  pantry. 

">7ow,  just  give  right  up,  John  Washington,"  she 
replied,  as  he  groaned  and  sighed,  and  declared  that  he'd 
get  up  and  go  down  town  as  usual  if  it  killed  him. 
"  There,  let  me  turn  your  pillow  over,  hang  your  clothes 
in  the  closet,  and  then  I'll  run  in  and  make  you  some 
toast." 

He  had  to  submit.  She  darkened  the  bedroom,  put  a 
clean  spread  on  the  bed,  and  a  grand  smile  covered  her 
face  as  she  sailed  into  the  kitchen, 

"  Sarah  Jane,  you  go  and  fan  your  father  with  a  news- 
paper and  keep  the  flies  ofi''n  him  while  I  get  the  poor 
man  something  to  eat.  Your  father  is  a  very  sick  man, 
Sarah  Jane,  and  I  can't  say  that  you  won't  be  fatherless 
next  week  at  this  time.'' 

Sarah  went  in,  and  Mrs.  Jones  rushed  from  the  stove  to 
the  pantry.     She  toasted  four  largo  slices  of  bread,  broke 
DD  465 


466  DOCTORS    NO    GOOD. 

three  eggs  into  hot  water,  got  down  a  pint  glass  of  jelly, 
sent  for  half  a  pound  of  crackers,  and  in  about  half  an 
hour  had  the  sick  man's  breakfast  ready. 

"  I  don't  care  what  all  the  doctors  in  the  land  say,"  she 
remarked,  as  she  drew  three  chairs  within  his  reach  and 
loaded  them  down  with  the  provisions.  "  I  know  that 
people  can't  be  sick  without  something  on  their  stomach." 

He  tasted  the  toast,  sipped  at  the  tea,  groaned,  growled 
and  sighed,  and  she  pleaded: 

"Now,  John,  do  try  and  eat  something.  I  know  just 
how  you  feel,  and  I  know  you  haven't  any  appetite,  but 
do  try." 

"0  thunder!"  he  groaned,  as  his  stomach  rebelled 
against  the  food. 

"  Poor  man  !  poor,  dear  man  !"  she  sighed,  as  she  placed 
her  hand  on  his  head.  "  John  Washington,  if  you  should 
die  this  would  be  a  sad  house.  I  don't  believe  I  could 
stand  up  under  the  blow  three  weeks,  and  I  know  the 
children  would  give  right  up  !" 

"  Hadn't  we  better  have  a  doctor  ?"  he  inquired,  becom- 
ing frightened. 

"Not  now,  John — not  until  we  see  that  J  can't  do  you 
any  good.  I  know  those  doctors  to  a  T.  They'd  come 
here  and  dose  and  dose  and  make  a  great  bill,  and  you'd 
probably  die  just  the  same." 

She  carried  out  the  food,  put  on  a  kettle  of  water,  got 
out  a  clean  towel,  and  as  she  entered  the  bedroom  with  a 
dish  of  warm  water  in  her  hand,  she  said: 

"  Now,  then,  I  must  wash  your  feet  and  cut  your  toe- 
nails." 

She  sat  beside  the  bed,  took  his  foot  in  her  lap,  and  that 
sweet  smile  on  her  face  proved  that  his  illness  would  be  a 
gain  to  her  of  a  pound  of  flesh  per  day. 

"  My  soul !  but  I'm  glad  I  thought  to  wash  your  feet," 


A    GOOD    TIME.  407 

she  exclaimed,  as  she  rubl)ed  tlieni  with  a  wet  towel.  "  I 
wouldu't  have  had  any  of  the  ueighbors  come  in  and  see 
tliose  feet  for  all  we  are  worth.'' 

She  wanted  to  scrape  the  sole  with  an  old  case-knife,  but 
he  wouldn't  permit  it.  She,  however,  got  out  the  shears, 
and  had  a  good  time  cutting  his  toe-nails  and  digging 
under  them.  She  worked  industriously  for  half  an  hour, 
and  then  held  the  last  foot  off  and  looked  at  it  admiringly, 
and  said : 

"  There  !  I'll  take  my  dying  oath  you've  got  the  clean- 
est feet  in  this  town." 

She  took  a  second  look,  gave  the  foot  an  admiring  pat, 
and  continued : 

"  If  this  fit  of  sickness  should  carry  you  off,  I  could 
always  look  back  with  pleasure  to  the  fact  that  your  feet 
were  bran  span  clean  and  as  good  as  new." 

lie  half  admitted  that  he  felt  better,  and,  greatly  encour- 
aged, she  sent  Sarah  Jane  out  to  pull  some  horse-radish 
leaves.  These  were  trimmed,  laid  on  the  stove,  rolled  in 
her  hand,  and  she  went  back  to  Mr.  Jones  and  said : 

"  ISTow,  then,  we'll  put  on  the  drafts." 

She  put  a  leaf  on  the  sole  of  each  foot,  tied  clean  cloths 
over  them,  hunted  up  clean  socks,  worried  them  on  over 
the  cloths,  and,  as  she  tucked  the  spread  down,  she  asked : 

"  Xow,  John  Washington,  don't  you  feel  better — a  little 
better?" 

"  Oh,  I  dunno  !"  he  groaned,  turning  over. 

"  You  poor  man !  How  providential  for  you  that  you 
have  got  a  wife  who  knows  all  about  herbs  and  sick- 
ness." 

She  turned  over  his  pillow,  put  a  damp  cloth  on  his  fore- 
head, counted  his  pulse,  and  whispered  : 

"  See  if  you  can't  catch  a  little  sleep  while  I  go  and 
wash  the  dishes." 


468  MAKES    A    DISCOVERY. 

When  she  went  out  Sarah  Jane  had  her  brother  Wilham 
harnessed  to  a  chair,  and  was  driving  him  round  the 
kitchen  for  her  horse. 

"  Wliat !  didn't  I  tell  you  that  your  father  was  danger- 
ously ill  ?"  exclaimed  the  mother,  as  she  boxed  their  ears. 
"  It  would  be  a  pretty  story  to  go  out  that  you  children 
were  playing  horse  when  your  father  lay  dying!" 

The  children  subsided,  and  as  the  mother  piled  the 
dishes  together  and  carefully  scraped  the  crumbs  from 
each  plate  on  to  a  platter,  she  couldn't  help  but  wonder 
how  she  would  look  in  crapes.  Her  husband  was  well 
known,  belonged  to  the  Odd  Fellows  and  a  debating  soci- 
ety, and  of  course  everybody  would  turn  out  to  the  funeral. 
She  would  have  lots  of  sympathy,  and  the  head  man  of 
the  Odd  Fellov.-s  would  see  that  the  funeral  passed  oft*  all 
right.  She  wouldn't  never  marry  again,  of  course,  though 
it  would  be  hard  for  her  to  bring  up  two  small  children 
and  settle  up  her  husband's  business  and  earn  her  own 
support.  She  would  be  the  "  Widow  Jones,"  and  if  she 
smiled  at  all  it  must  be  a  faint  smile,  and  if  she  talked  she 
must  have  a  handkerchief  ready  to  wipe  the  tears  from 
her  eyes. 

As  the  last  dish  was  wiped,  her  revery  was  broken  by  a 
howl  from  William,  who  had  fallen  over  a  log  in  the  back 
yard. 

"What!  howling  like  that  when  your  dear  father  is 
dying!"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  shook  him  right  and  left. 

He  subsided,  and  she  sent  Sarah  Jane  down  to  the  mar- 
ket after  some  lean  mutton  to  make  the  invalid  a  broth, 

"  The  poor  man  !"  she  sighed,  as  she  started  for  the  bed- 
room. She  reached  it  to  find  him  out  of  bed  and  dressed 
and  ready  to  go  down  town.  The  horse-radish  drafts  were 
hanging  on  the  bedstead,  the  pillow  was  on  the  floor,  and 
the  spread — her  best — was  in  a  heap  under  the  bed. 


AND    SITS    DOWN    TO    M'EEP. 


469 


"  Why,  John  "Washington  !"  she  exclaimed,  raising  her 
hands. 

"  I'm  going  down  town,"  he  replied,  in  a  determined 
voice. 

"And  hain't  you  going  to  have  a  fit  of  sickness  ?" 

"  No,  hanged  if  I  will !" 

And  the  poor  woman  sat  down  and  cried.  All  those 
herhs  and  powders  and  liquids  must  remain  on  the  shelves, 
and  she  might  not  have  a  chance  to  cut  his  toe-nails  again 
for  a  whole  year. 


M'GRADY'S  BASE  TRICK. 


iE  hadn't  mucli  amusement  in 
"Buttermilk  Diggings,"  and  days 
when  the  weather  was  bad  and 
silver  mining  couldn't  be  pursued, 
the  man  who  owned  a  novel  could 
lend  it  at  a  big  price  per  hour.  One  night  a  fire  consumed 
several  of  the  shanties,  and  burned  every  pack  of  cards, 
dice-box  and  scrap  of  reading  in  the  place.  The  next 
week  nearly  finished  half  the  men,  and  when  a  man  riding 
a  small  brown  mule  hove  in  sight  over  the  ridge  one  after- 
noon, the  pair  were  greeted  with  a  powerful  yell  of  welcome. 
He  was  the  first  stranger  who  had  come  our  w^ay  for  four 
months,  and  the  bo^'s  took  to  him  at  once. 

The  man  was  a  quiet  sort  of  fellow  named  McGrady, 
and  the  mule  had  a  listless,  dreamy  look,  and  a  slouchy 
gait.  He  was  a  curiosity  to  some  of  the  men,  and  atten- 
tion was  about  equally  divided  between  mule  and  master. 
Within  two  hours  after  reaching  the  Diggings  McGrady 
was  taken  ill  of  fever,  and  for  a  week  we  gave  him  the 
best  we  had,  and  took  prime  care  of  the  mule.  The  beast 
was  as  whist  as  a  mouse,  never  braying  a  note  during  the 
whole  week,  and  "Buttermilk  Diggings"  passed  him  a 
vote  of  thanks  for  his  natural  modesty  and  retiring  dispo- 
sition. 

470 


SETTING   THE   TRAP.  471 

"When  the  man  got  ou  his  legs  again  he  was  very  grate- 
ful, and  gathering  the  men  around  him  one  noon,  he  let 
out  something  to  astonish  us.  lie  called  the  mule  up,  and 
all  the  mules  which  ever  played  tricks  in  circuses  couldn't 
hold  a  candle  to  the  tricks  of  that  mule.  He  would  rear 
up,  lie  down,  roll  over,  stand  on  a  barrel,  kick  up,  strike, 
jump,  nod  his  head  or  shake  it,  and  he  acted  as  if  he  had 
human  brains.  When  we  had  recovered  from  our  aston- 
ishment, McGrady  confessed  that  he  had  come  to  clean  out 
the  Diggings  with  the  mule's  tricks,  but  gratitude  had 
caused  him  to  forego  his  designs. 

It  wasn't  five  minutes  before  we  had  put  up  a  job  on  our 
neighbors  in  the  bend  of  Duck  creek,  four  miles  away. 
They  had  heaps  of  silver  up  there,  and  the  fifty  miners 
were  puffed  up  over  their  luck  and  wore  their  hats  over 
their  left  ears.  We  had  been  aching  for  a  long  while  to 
get  even  with  them,  and  we  saw  that  the  chance  had  come. 
They  were  a  betting  set,  and  they'd  go  tlieir  pile  against 
McGrar.y's  mule. 

In  about  a  week  we  were  ready.  We  got  up  a  grand 
wolf-diliner  for  Sunday,  and  invited  the  whole  crowd  over. 
They  had  only  caught  sight  of  the  mule  when  they  began 
to  poke  fun  at  him,  calling  him  the  president  of  Butter- 
milk Diggings  and  all  that,  but  we  bided  our  time.  After 
dinner  we  began  to  throw  out  hints  about  the  mule's  cute- 
ness,  and  he  was  brought  out  and  made  to  perform  a  few 
of  the  least  important  tricks. 

The  Duck  Creek  fellows  sneered  and  snickered,  declar- 
ing that  they  had  a  tame  wolf  which  could  beat  anything 
like  that,  and  by  and  by  they  seized  hold  of  the  mule, 
threw  him  over,  and  rolled  him  down  hill.  McGrady  then 
began  to  brag  about  what  his  mule  could  do,  and  he  laid 
out  a  programme,  and  we  oflered  to  back  him.  The  Duck 
Creek  men  came  to  time  like  a  tornado,  and  offered  to  bet 


472  AND    GETTING    CAUGHT. 

US  even  that  tlie  mule  couldn't  perform  even  one  of  the 
dozen  tricks  on  the  programme. 

Here  was  our  chance,  and  every  dollar  which  Buttermilk 
Diggings  could  turn  out  was  put  up.  It  took  a  good  half 
hour  to  get  the  preliminaries  settled,  and  finally  we  had 
$1,565  up  against  an  equal  sum  laid  down  by  the  Duck 
Creek  men.  We  went  around  grinning  and  nudging  each 
other,  and  we  felt  a  bit  of  pity  for  the  greenhorns  from 
the  Creek. 

The  mule  was  finally  called  up.  He'd  been  browsing 
around  while  we  fixed  the  bets,  and  he  came  forward  look- 
ing as  innocent  and  unconcerned  as  a  mule  could  look. 

"As  I  understand  it,  Duck  Creek  bets  that  this  mule 
can't  be  made  to  pick  up  a  barrel  with  his  teeth,  carry  it 
to  the  door  of  the  fourth  shanty,  and  take  my  hat  oft'  the 
bench  and  bring  it  here,"    said  McGrady. 

"  That's  her — that's  the  bet,"  cried  the  fellows. 

"We'd  seen  the  mule  go  through  that  performance  thirty 
times,  and  we  grinned  some  more. 

McGrady  whispered  in  the  beast's  ear,  and  then  pointed 
to  the  barrel  and  at  the  shanty.  The  mule  seized  the  bar- 
rel, gave  it  a  toss  to  one  side,  and  started  up  the  creek  as 
fast  as  he  could  go,  and  was  out  of  sight  in  five  minutes. 

The  Duck  Creek  fellows  yelled  until  they  were  hoarse, 
and  after  they  had  departed  with  the  money  we  found 
McGrady  had  gone  with  them.  It  wasn't  long  before  we 
discovered  that  the  Duck  Creek  chaps  had  sent  him  to  put 
up  the  whole  thing  on  us.  He  had  trained  the  mule  to  go 
through  the  tricks  or  to  run  away,  as  occasion  demanded, 
and  his  sickness  was  all  a  sham. 

If  wolf  meat  hadn't  been  unusually  plenty  that  spring, 
Buttermilk  Diggings  would  have  been  wiped  out  by  starva- 
tion. 

Some  of  our  folks  cleaned  up  their  revolvers  and  hung 


THE    BETTER    WAY. 


473 


around  the  Duck  Creek  camp  for  tlie  best  part  of  the  next 
week,  hoping  to  get  a  shot  at  McGrady  and  to  ventilate 
the  mule,  but  the  pair  slipped  away  between  two  days,  and 
"Buttermilk"  held  a  mass  meeting  and 
"  Jic'dolfcdj  That  we  be  carm  and  bear  up." 


AS  THE  PIGEON  FLIES. 


^-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z!     A  monster  of  iron, 
^*"  steel  and  brass,  standing  on  the 
slim  iron  rails  whicli  shoot  away 
^      from  the  station  for  half  a  mile 
and  then   lose  themselves  in  the 
^   green  forest. 
Puff-puif!     The  driving-wheels  slowly  turn— the  mon- 
ster breathes  great  clouds  of  steam  and  seems  anxious  for 
the  race. 

A  grizzly-haired  engineer  looks  down  from  the  cab-win- 
dow, while  his  fireman  pulls  back  the  iron  door  and  heaves 
in  more  wood — more  breath  and  muscle  for  the  grim  giant 
of  the  track. 

The  fire  roars  and  crackles — the  steam  hisses  and 
growls — every  breath  is  drawn  as  fiercely  as  if  the  giant 
was  burning  to  revenge  an  insult. 

XIp — up — up  !  The  pointer  on  the  steam-gauge  moves 
faster  than  the  minute-hand  on  a  clock.  The  breathing 
becomes  louder — the  hiss  rises  to  a  scream — ^the  iron  rails 
tremble  and  quiver. 

474 


FORTY    MILES    AN    UOUR.  475 

"Climb  up!" 

It  is  going  to  be  a  race  against  time  and  the  telegraph. 

"  S-s-s-sh !" 

The  engineer  rose  up,  looked  ahead,  glanced  at  the  dial, 
and  as  his  fingers  clasped  the  throttle  he  asked  the  station- 
agent  : 

"  Are  you  sure  that  the  track  is  clear  ?" 

"  All  clear !"  was  the  answer. 

The  throttle  feels  the  pull,  the  giant  utters  a  fierce 
scream,  and  we  are  ofi!,  I  on  the  fireman's  seat,  the  fireman 
on  the  wood.  The  rails  slide  under  us  slowly — faster,  and 
the  giant  screams  again  and  dashes  into  the  forest. 

This  isn't  fast.  The  telegraph  poles  dance  past  as  if  not 
over  thirty  feet  apart,  and  the  board  fence  seems  to  rise 
from  the  ground,  but  it's  only  thirty-five  miles  an  hour. 

"Wood!" 

The  engineer  takes  his  eyes  ofi"  the  track  and  turns  just 
long  enough  to  speak  the  word  to  his  fireman.  The  iron 
door  swings  back,  and  there  is  an  awful  rush  and  roar  of 
flame.  The  fire-box  appears  full,  but  stick  after  stick  is 
dropped  into  the  roaring  pit  until  a  quarter  of  a  cord  has 
disappeared. 

"  This  is  forty  miles  an  hour  !"  shouts  the  fireman  in  my 
ear  as  he  rubs  the  moisture  from  his  heated  face. 

Yes,  this  is  faster.  The  fence-posts  seem  to  leap  from 
the  ground  as  we  dash  along,  xmd  the  telegraph  poles  bend 
and  nod  to  us.  A  house — a  field — a  farm — we  get  but  one 
glance.  A  dozen  houses — a  hundred  faces — that  was  a 
station.  "We  heard  a  yell  from  the  crowd,  but  it  had 
scarcely  reached  us  before  it  was  drowned  in  the  great  roar. 

Kine  miles  in  fourteen  minutes — we've  lost  time !  The 
engineer  takes  his  eyes  from  the  rail,  makes  a  motion  to 
his  fireman,  and  the  sticks  drop  into  the  roaring  flames 
again,  to  make  new  flames. 


476  FASTER    THAN    THAT. 

Seven  miles  of  clear  track  now,  and  the  engineer  smiles 
a  grim  smile  as  he  lets  more  steam  into  the  giant's  lungs. 

Ah !  ]!^ot  a  mile  a  minute  yet,  but  how  we  shake  from 
side  to  side — how  the  tender  leaps  and  bounds  !  Is  there 
a  fence  skirting  the  track  ?  There  is  a  dark  line  keeping 
pace  with  us — it  may  be  a  fence.  Where  are  the  telegraph 
poles  ?  Were  all  those  trees  falling  toward  the  track  as 
we  dashed  through  the  bit  of  forest  ? 

A  yell — houses — faces — that  was  another  station.  Word 
has  gone  down  the  line  that  a  "  wild  "  locomotive  is  rush- 
ing a  journalist  across  the  country  to  catch  the  lightning 
express  on  another  Road,  and  the  people  gather  to  see  us 
dash  past.  Seven  miles  in  eight  and  a  half  minutes — that's 
better,  but  we  must  run  faster ! 

The  finger  on  the  dial  creeps  slowly  up — we  want  a 
reserve  of  steam  for  the  last  twelve  of  road — the  best  track 
of  all. 

The  noise  is  deafening — the  swaying  and  bumping  is 
terrible.  I  hang  fast  to  the  seat — clutch,  cling,  and  yet  it 
seems  as  if  I  must  be  shaken  to  the  floor. 

Every  moment  there  is  a  scream  from  the  whistle — every 
two  or  three  minutes  the  engineer  makes  a  gesture  which 
calls  for  the  iron  door  to  be  opened  and  the  roaring,  leap- 
ing flames  to  be  fed  anew. 

Houses — faces — a  yell !  That  was  another  station.  We 
made  the  last  five  miles  in  six  minutes.  Did  you  ever  ride 
a  mile  in  one  minute  and  twelve  seconds  ?  But  we  were 
to  beat  it. 

Like  a  bird — ^like  an  arrow — like  a  bullet  almost,  we 
speed  forward.  Half  a  dozen  men  beside  the  track — sec- 
tion-men with  their  hand-car.  They  lift  their  hats  and 
yell,  but  their  voices  do  not  reach  us.  We  pass  them  as 
lightning  flashes  through  the  heavens.  That  was  a  farm- 
house.    We  saw  nothing  but   a  white   object — a  green 


AND    YET    TASTEK.  477 

spot — two  or  three  apple  trees  where  there  was  a  large 
orchard. 

Scream ! 

Hiss ! 

Roar ! 

Shake — quiver — bound  ! 

"We  are  going  to  stop — going  to  halt  for  an  instant  at  a 
station  to  see  if  the  track  is  clear  for  the  rush — for  a  mile 
a  minute,  and  faster ! 

Scream !     Scream  ! 

The  station  is  a  mile  ahead — it  is  beside  us  !  The  fire- 
man leaps  down  with  his  oil-can — the  engineer  enters  the 
telegraph  office.     Both  are  back  in  fifteen  seconds. 

Twelve  and  a  half  miles  to  go — twelve  minutes  in  which 
to  make  it. 

"We  can  do  it!"  said  the  engineer.  "Hold  fast  now! 
We  have  been  running — we  are  going  to  fly !" 

Scream  ! 

"  Good-bye !" 

As  a  mad  horse  runs — as  an  arrow  is  sent — as  the  car- 
rier-pigeon flies  !  Yes,  this  is  a  mile  a  minute  !  Fences  ? 
No — only  a  black  line,  hardly  larger  than  my  pencil ! 
Trees?  'No — only  one  tree — all  merged  into  one  single 
tree,  which  was  out  of  sight  in  a  flash.  Fields  ?  Yes — 
one  broad  field,  broken  for  an  instant  by  a  highway — a 
gray  thread  lying  on  the  ground ! 

It  is  terrible!  K  we  should  leave  the  rails!  If — but 
don't  think  of  it !     Hold  fast ! 

Eight  miles  in  eight  minutes,  not  a  second  more  or  less  ! 
The  lightning  travels  faster — so  does  a  locomotive  I  Four 
and  a  half  miles  to  go — four  minutes  to  make  it !  We 
must  run  a  mile  every  fifty-three  seconds. 

Scream  ! 

Sway ! 


478  AS    THE    LIGETNINGS    FLASH. 

Tremble ! 

"We  are  making  time,  but  great  heavens  it  is  awful — this 
roar,  this  oscillation ! 

One  mile ! 

Two  miles ! 

I  dare  not  open  my  eyes !  I  would  not  look  ahead  on 
the  track  for  all  the  gold  ever  mined ! 

Three  miles ! 

Can  I  ever  hear  again  ?  Will  I  ever  get  this  deafening 
roar  out  of  my  ears  ?     Will  the  seconds  ever  go  by  ? 

Scream  ! 

The  engineer  shuts  off  steam — the  fireman  hurrahs — I 
open  my  eyes — we  are  at  the  station !  The  lightning 
express  is  not  two  seconds  away ! 

"  I  told  you  !"  says  the  engineer,  "  and  didn't  I  do  it !" 

He  did,  but  he  carried  three  lives  in  the  palm  of  the 
hand  that  grasped  the  throttle. 


SOME  SAD  THOUGHTS. 


OWEVER  the  reader  may  feel,  the  man 
who  wrote  this  book  cannot  resist  a  feel- 
ing of  sadness  as  he  sits  down  to  this 
last  article. 

There  are  many  sad  things  con- 
nected with  writing  and  publishing 
a  book.  For  instance,  the  news- 
papers now  and  then  get  after  a  man  and  sprinkle  his 
January  weather  with  August  breezes.  The  book  may  be 
a  failure  in  a  financial  point  of  view,  leaving  the  author  to 
carry  a  night-mare  burden  on  his  back  during  the  rest  of 
his  natural  life.  He  sees  a  good  many  paragraphs,  and 
some  whole  articles,  which  he  knows  he  could  better,  but 
the  printer  won't  let  him  try. 

The  author  has  written  this  book  "  between  times  " — 
sandmched  the  work  between  writing  for  a  dozen  publi- 
cations. It  has  been  the  means  of  keeping  him  home 
nights,  and  of  preventing  him  from  joining  Fenian  raids, 
expeditions  to  the  Black  Hills,  or  running  for  office.  But 
for  this  work  he  could  have  secured  seven  or  eight  hours 
sleep  each  night,  grown  fat,  preserved  a  placid  expression 
of  countenance,  and  been  in  a  position  to  criticise  the  book 
of  another. 

Hereafter,  the  book  being  in  the  hands  of  the  public, 
the  writer  will  sadly  sit  and  nibble  at  his  pencil,  and  think 
and  ponder  and  think,  and  unless  he  can  secure  a  job  on 
479 


480 


THE    LAST    DITCH. 


a  Congressional  report  or  a  dictionary,  life's  cliarms  will 
slip  from  him  as-  the  boy  and  his  shingle  glide  down  the 
steep  to  the  level. 

K  a  perusal  of  the  volume  saves  any  family  fifteen  per 
cent  in  fuel,  ten  per  cent  in  clothes,  and  re-moulds  pirates, 
brigands  and  highway  robbers  into  toil-hardened  agricul- 
turists, then  its  chief  object  has  been  accomplished,  and 
the  writer  will  stub  along  through  life  with  a  heart  full  of 
joy  fulness. 

Tee  End. 


^*' 


